Baiku #7
April 1, 2018
All the birds rise up/ fragments of lake taking wing/ undone, becoming.
22 Years Later
February 25, 2018
I. On the way up to the lake house, the back of the vehicle jammed with things of this earth: snacks, casseroles, a snowboard, three pairs of snow pants, a snow shovel for the ice rink, skates, sleeping bags, water, wine – and after passing barn upon barn, acre upon acre of crumbling stone and … More 22 Years Later
Night on Shakey Lakes, -17°F
January 28, 2018
Tonight we sleep above the ice, (cocooned like mousies in sleeping bags) under an impossible number of January stars, (brilliant like only winter stars can be, Orion hunting alone) over the lake, and the fish in the lake, (swimming slowly in the iced water capped by sixteen inches of ice) in this bitter cold, (as … More Night on Shakey Lakes, -17°F
In Dreaming Stray
December 13, 2017
I. At some point, it became irrelevant to teach little boys how to tie a horse’s harness to a tree after a morning ride as it will become irrelevant, yet possibly charming to tell analog time, and write in cursive, and develop 35 mm film (these things yet in my lifetime). There was, there will … More In Dreaming Stray
Holding Fire
December 10, 2017
That night it was snowing like crazy but we left the kitchen in disarray to pick her up and we drove through half-deserted white billowed streets to see the pretty lights at the botanical gardens I walked ahead so you could stroll alone with her through the winter night lit by imagined dragons, undersea creatures, … More Holding Fire
Winter Reveals
December 10, 2017
Winter reveals all the broken things you don’t see in the modest months, the tree snapped in half, a frayed thing, touching its forehead to the cold ground – cracked buckets and oblong strips of tires, outbuildings leaning perilously to one side as though they’ve had too many beers when really all they’ve had is … More Winter Reveals
Linneman’s
December 10, 2017
At Linneman’s RiverWest with McKenzie, my firstborn, who is somehow of age, beautiful, and strong, despite it all – we’re just one drink in, waiting for her boyfriend Zach to play, when I hit the ladies’ room — “I’m comin’ out!” the lady in the half-open stall shouts and so I pee behind the imperfectly … More Linneman’s
Wee Thing
December 10, 2017
While waiting for the Percoset to kick in, and the Spinal to bid goodbye, (thus far I can tense the muscles in my right thigh, only), so I can walk, and pee, and get home, and while trying to breathe out in a hiss through the cramping of my missing womb, (though to be clear … More Wee Thing
Braces
December 10, 2017
Something about seeing your skull in black and white and pulled nonchalantly from the manila folder makes me feel loose inside as though all of my bones have let go of each other for the moment, and are floating around unmoored in my limbs, my chest. The skull is death, it’s for pirates, and archaeologists, … More Braces
Fighting with My Brother the River
December 1, 2017
My big brother is not like a river, ever-changing, moody, bringing you along in his current – he is a river, the Menominee, and despite his full-time job keeping Wisconsin and Michigan in their places, he has also pulled and tangled my hair, has stolen my towels, sunglasses, one cell phone, several shirts, flip-flops, and … More Fighting with My Brother the River
