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One felt all the poor lady’s barriers were falling save her manner.

The pain lithified to numbness, and she recalled the time of his courtship.

What humanity needed was that gravity-defying miracle, the bird.

She often feels something kinetic between herself and younger men.

For a month after 9/11 Bella wept through all her appointments.

Her bra is black, her breasts full and white. There is too much flesh.

I thought it was beauty alone that gave significance to life.

I hold out hands, empty and poor like a beggar by the temple door.

Young people have a gift for reviving freshness of language.

A charmed sequence of words. The jangle. The strum.

Between me and the sky is a screen door and a whole mess of wind.

I found myself alone on the train in possession only of Knoll’s journal.

When the snake attacked the soldier, its fangs left a violent opening.

Some people see the man but not the light, the field but not the varnish.

One said she heard the jazz-band sob when the little dawn was grey.

West Oakland was characterized by unemployment, poverty, and blight.

Owen’s head throbbed, his ears ached, and an anvil sat on his chest.

I was dusty, my ponytail all askew and the tips of my fingers ran red.

She asked, “What’s the weirdest thing you can do with your body?”

She began to see the word, or traces of it, wherever she went.

Ajax killed men and then animals thinking they were men.

Grasshoppers tumble from the reeds, snapping like electricity.

She’d seen snakes before, but she’d never really looked at one, until now.

Sixty-year-old veins look like giant roots breaking through earth’s skin.

Hear the voice of life telling you something from the inside out.

My soul is simple; it doesn’t think. Something strange paces there now.

A goddess was offended; her altar required my virgin blood.

You linger in the dimming aftermath, grayer and fainter than a breath.

Beyond her ampleness, he stands a small man vanquished.