October 2016

i early morning

The rain, gray god with its huge hands
has shredded the roses, and clapping,
kept us up all night, the bridge washed out,
the troll waiting to gobble a goat.
How long has he been there, wet and cold,
impatient, starving, his coat
rent...

We were thirty-one souls all, he said, on the gray-sick of sea
in a cold rubber boat, rising and falling in our filth.
By morning this didn’t matter, no land was in sight,
all were soaked to the bone, living and dead.
We could...

I was listening to a book on tape while driving
and when the author said, “Those days I delighted in everything,”
I pulled over and found a pencil and a parking ticket stub
because surely there was a passage of life where I...