March 2016

When he speaks of deserved and undeserved as more
than terms — how they can matter, suddenly — I can tell
he believes it. Sometimes a thing can seem star-like
when it’s just a star, stripped of whatever small form of joy
likeness equals. Sometimes the thought that...

Summer road the ring around the lake, we drove mostly in silence.

Why aren’t I your wife?

You swerved around a turtle sunning itself.

I wanted to go back. To hold the hot disc of it and place it in the grass.

We were...

a netless somersault, the trapeze swing disappears in disheveled clouds among cumulus sheep, birds, rowboat
 
the feather on the Joseph Cornell narrow shelf, unruffled as the one we pocketed from the grass in a nearby park to share week by week...