The light and air cut our bodies into sharp shapes, making this mine and that not, keeping you bound in your cellular garb. I clamber

He opened an envelope heavier than usual A notepad fell to the kitchen floor like a book on coffee table A heart on the cover

My heart lay On the dinner table Prey in the open For you to feast upon Anticipation Rocketing through The cavern Where my heart Usually

Over 20 paces, I unpack the history, Force the meaningless to vanish, slag The tailings onto an invisible pile. Like a pirate flag, a skull-and-crossbones

I watch her pull out the small index card, slipped safely inside its protective sleeve, the typed words preserved on the surface, yet, beginning to

Without you, I shower twice as long. I press my cheek against smooth tile, a cool warmth in the gentle vibration of pipes so like

I’d fall in love with a pensive sort of woman, The kind who stops and stares at nothing in particular Then somehow smiles a grateful

You’ve seen all of her.  Garlands she weaves like dreams: soft, silky, you. Her, dancing in the wind  She absorbs the dampness of the earth 

On my last afternoon in Mustang, I met her for tea at her mother’s small guesthouse beneath the base of the mysterious sky caves. We

                 May you always know, my little one,                  you were

I believe in collisions, erratic crashing together. Splice split of atoms, deep degradation of DNA, those tender helix hugs over sex & fate. How the

i can catch your voice. i can catch the velvety warmth, piercing coldness , rosy thorns, and blurry dawn in your voice. i can catch

1. From my window, I watch the birds. I watch tiny blossoms open on my Australian bottle brush tree, then frizzle into confetti and blow

When my mother told fifteen year old me I should write letters to our neighbor’s son who was away in Vietnam I somehow missed hearing

On the rough days when I can’t make it When the world is crushing my shoulders and I can’t breath He opens up His chest