What we want is never simple. We move among the things we thought we wanted: a face, a room, an open book

For Jews, the Cossacks are always… Therefore I think the sun spot on… is melanoma. Therefore I celebrat… New Year’s Eve by counting my annual dead.

Perhaps the purpose of leaves is t… the verticality of trees which we… as if for the first time: row afte… yearning upwards. And since we wil… ourselves for so long, let us now…

We think of hidden in a white dres… among the folded linens and sachet… of well-kept cupboards, or just ou… sending jellies and notes with no… to all the wondering Amherst neigh…

It was early May, I think a moment of lilac or dogwood when so many promises are made it hardly matters if a few are bro… My mother and father still hovered

I want to write you a love poem as headlong as our creek after thaw when we stand

Some say it was a pear Eve ate. Why else the shape of the womb,

After Adam Zagajewski I am child to no one, mother to a… wife for the long haul. On fall days I am happy with my dying brethren, the leaves…

1. THE SACRIFICE On this tile the knife like a sickle-moon hangs in the painted air

Finding a new poet is like finding a new wildflower out in the woods. You don’t see its name in the flower books, and nobody you tell believes

I am only leaving you for a handful of days but it feels as thought i will be gone forever the way the door closes

January Contorted by wind, mere armatures for ice or snow, the trees resolve to endure for now,

Into the gravity of my life, the serious ceremonies of polish and paper and pen, has come this manic animal

When I taught you at eight to ride a bicycle, loping along beside you as you wobbled away

The door of winter is frozen shut, and like the bodies of long extinct animals, cars lie abandoned wherever