And we will see there only ordinary things, constellations of dew, only miracles. I will meet you in the woods And we will carry there only our temporal minds, bodies, spirits, only these eternal. I will meet you in the woods And we will find there only things deep and green and growing, only decay. … More I Will Meet You in the Woods
I have staked out a sliver of an acre in this king-sized country where I am held carefully in the dark like the opening quotes and the first few words of a song – through the open window I can hear the world as it grows lighter, I hear sandhill cranes trilling to each other … More Suspension
That I am going to walk through today with a stranger has more rooms than I need and needs more money than I have and I don’t need all that space now but it is old and has a wide porch that looks over the Fox River, flowing north, and it has enough room for … More The House on Monroe Street
this blustery March afternoon I’m crossing what is still my back yard for a time drill in hand, a spile, a bright blue bag – 38 degrees, sandals skirting dried dog poop among brown leaves that fell, bright, the autumn before; the hole on the underside of the spile, yesterday confounded me but the sap … More Sap, Rising
The heart is a muscle The heart is a fist it’s strong and it’s wary, this beast in my breast. My heart has been sleeping My heart has dreamed dreams – It wakens, now, flexing, it growls and it gleams. My heart is gone hunting, My heart leads me on Through starless dark forests, on … More Heart in Darkness
In the beginning the boys and their sleds and half-size snowboards would pile in on a snow day, headed for the Suamico Elementary School hill; They were puppies, interchangeable, laughing, careening down the hill over and over – later they’d play Minecraft, fighting zombies in the dark, building houses close together for protection – in a … More Centrifugal Force
Winter broke and entered years ago, pressing icy fingers against our skin, wandering under our shirts, searching for our hearts, listening as we slowly wound down – we were watches kept in a drawer of an empty house. But I think you must have jacked open some painted-over lead-poisoned window, somewhere, deep inside, (maybe in … More Breaking and Entering
I. After we see paintings of the sea, and moonlight, and doom by Winslow Homer, after we work on income tax forms and insurance and eat carnitas burritos and watch Netflix, I don’t feel well, it’s not a bellyache or a hangover or a fever or something that CVS can fix. it’s like this existential … More Wes and Jesus Come up Empty
And shining in the green field As though they are just-painted models In someone’s miniature world, Set just So as We fly down 577 while Sun and rain leapfrog over each other, Empty houses, fallow fields, A woman pulling weeds In a rectangular patch Reclaimed from the wild, Destined for the wild In 40 years … More Black Horses Wet
Halfway North 