April 18 Baiku
Leafless butler trees/ Serving up platters of sky/ Our bellies growling/
Leafless butler trees/ Serving up platters of sky/ Our bellies growling/
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
Slips and skips from the lips, it frees me from this bees’ nest wherein barren technology stings and wrings joy from the days, it plucks me from the luckless hum of air conditioning and fair renditions of elevator tunes and spoons me into the bracing air heart racing there and the snow falling, flakes enthralling … More Friluftsliv
Takes me in its teeth, it’s a sleek wolverine shaking off glassine beads of the setting sun, gleaming over the river cold and clean; Riverine carries me in its furling current; my soul adamantine, unchanging, always changing, the lean walleye and muskies now follow me, hollow seems what we leave upstream, the tangerine sun bleeds … More Riverine
I am burning through the decades, not figuratively as I finish my first fifth decade, no literally onto this bonfire I am pitching husks of barnacles like Porterfield Elementary autograph books, 40 years of birthday cards, Christmas photos, school concert programs, playbills, ticket stubs, pay stubs, tree bark, blurry photos, zoo photos, tree photos, maps … More Fire and the Deep
They say that dogs can sniff out COVID in passengers at the Helsinki airport, offering a paw, or lying down – (even in this job, dogs are on our side – “I’m sorry,” they say with a paw, “you’re positive, but I will lie here with you.”) with near 100% accuracy. Maybe they smell it … More In Which Dogs Sniff out the Virus and Save the World, And Also Get Treats
This world is a sepulchre, this world is our tomb, cradling the bones of whoever was, and whoever is, and perhaps whoever shall be; This world holds us all fast as it surely weaves through the shroud of stars, the cloak of the Milky Way – And even when we’ve good and ruined this Earth … More The Earth’s Little Golden Book of Lament
Fall comes on too strong/ Branches up in summer’s skirt/ Before she thinks no/
I stand a moment in the space you left, while summer air curls through the windows wide – I, reconciling, make the empty bed, the sun lies on the laundered sheets and sighs; Your desk, your chest, your closet – clean and spare, these books have all been read, the records played – the things … More Leaving for College in a Year Marked by Plague Calls for a Sonnet