Category: Poetry

It’s a sweatpants day Phil launches the football into my memory the slant of the light there is red, not the red of a match-just-struck but something cleaner where runs always crunch into quarter sand what we forgive is the …

meets every Thursday night across from the pizza joint and the all-night gas station. One-by-one, they enter a run-down strip mall space and suck in the flavored-smoke slinking off the incense stick. Behind the industrial-glass door, the coven gathers in …

They have been swimming for years silver and fat, gulping everything until they can leap beyond themselves, beyond breath, into a brightness that pierces them as if for moments they meet God who kisses them, but if they linger in …

A miracle of goldfish still flicker like sunlit coins through dark matter. This river asks for so little, sings beneath Bascom bridges. It’s Prairie Wolf Slough’s Gloria of marsh marigold, pale geranium, trout lily, swamp buttercup. Clothed in its liquid …

1. TURN Someone insists there’s a setting for making the pages sound as if my fingers were turning them. 2. VOICE CONTROL A grandfather clock strikes low under my tongue, dissolves crushed syllables poured into capsules. 3. SLEEP MODE Once, I dreamed I …

On the railroad bed now paved nature trail the coyote stops, peers not at but through me into some past or future where, behind a bush I crouch, panting. When it slinks off into the too silent woods, a slip …