time when the turning birds silver time exploding brined like sweet lemons time wolves bark skunks slip into coops fishing line knots up roads slick proud with ice the boys I fuck all eat candy
So much goes on without it baffles
every time I begin. I read, I go walking.
I take long routes past the elementary school,
the fidgety, nebulous line at the crosswalk
and the swingsets quaking and singing.
Got to be starting
some thing. My father used to
minor birds with butcher twine.
Revise each one to be
You know where this is going: Danny lives across the street, house number 32-25 to my 32-26, and he is eight years to my seven;
We were in awe of her. She sat in class, perfectly wrapped and folded, each of her parts a clean extension of each of her others...
Trespassing on ground of former love. Tussocks / whisper here of nests and the vanquished. Swans hiss and fish / nearby, undoing the slipknots of their throats...
The lobsters were dead in a pile and with a froth on their shells they waited and watched us undress each other...
$138,000 into the story, there is nowhere else to go. I spent my twenty-seventh year typing letters of application, the nerves in each hand wrecked by…
156,000 into the story, the room is empty. The man I have started dating listens to my stories of how the dinners at the American Academy would unfold,…