(2012)
the Aurora roared above us and in sweeping, arcing curves mimicked the path of the luge.
A stone in the lake old as water. Older than any question. Older than dirt and more stubborn. Round.
we held the dream between our holding hands. we held our hands in the warmth of my coat pocket
Fish fry in Benoit. Joyce brings a hundred dollars in cod and beer almost right to your mouth and you wonder if it’s
like the name says, we were there together. and it wasn’t long before we had built a fire and stargazing became staring down
leeks bursting seedpods, equinox of our summer, moon becoming full.
Fish fry in Benoit. Joyce brings a hundred dollars in… almost right to your mouth and you wonder if it’s just too easy
it is March now. winter hangs on while spring looks on waiting.
jump in the truck, and disappear in moments measured in rust, that flakes off in the friction of…
sit in a tunnel fall at the northernmost point trip around the sun.
After close, the image loosens until it is just being held together.
when you get started and you don’t… start digging slowly and softly, move things around. i turned over a rock
tension stretching strings of muscle in the dirt warmth next to wildflowers, my feet stepping in prayers.
some metal piece out of place disturbs everything and suddenly i’m windbound on a calm night. left to my own devices,
everyone sees the red-torn deer ca… the mess made dragging her to be shouldered, everyone gawks and shifts the weight of