More than once, I’ve felt the night slip closed around me— not a comfort, exactly—& looked up into a sky I cannot refuse. … More Dispatches from the Middle of the Night
Red and cream rock
crumbles in my hand.
It asks me:
stone or sand?
but it doesn’t demand. … More Sedimentary
where the road runs out
the depth of choosing begins … More early morning in the wash
This year, “sparkling?” Yes, and. … More Reflections on a Sparkling Year
What have you done
with our kin that you swallowed, all dusted
and silvered with raindrops?
… More The Depth of Choosing