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Enough with the stranger, their transcendent experience of art.

What I really meant to say is that I am tired. Beauty can demand so much.

People believe; The whole world is part of something.

If Vann kisses her, a mist will rise in her brain. A promise of oblivion.

I once watched a man wax a hallway with an overweight rotary brush.

Ella knew she hadn’t hurt Sebastian, but she knew she’d betrayed him.

You live in this country, you put up bars, you train your dogs to snarl.

Get all of it. Set up the shots. Get beautiful stuff and get the ugliness.

Mama would say beware of the little flaws that make one homely.

This morning drifts of sand hissed along the shore like mist.

She always came back with her lipstick smeared all over her mouth.

We pull up alongside the great body. The fin marks the spot.

We’re fat! So what? They hadn’t yet tired of this chant, the play’s refrain.

It was spring: the field, a botanist’s mirage of wild flowers.

There is something on my mind rushing up as river in a locked car.

I wouldn’t know what to do with the body, gills pumping like an accordion.

I had forgotten how to breathe, and then I learned again, all at once.

It’s like his bottom half is not man but a strong horse.

Across sage flats, tundra, and bleeding hearts, she escapes.

Can there have been something in my letter, that unlucky letter?

You have your apron on under your coat. We’ve got each other.

I stop and look at the sky. Suddenly: orange, red, pink, blue, green, purple.

He never stopped reminding me that I was born in Harmony, Georgia.

A bunny the size of a teacup feasts in the clover, ears lit up in salt-pink light.

“The basis of literary friendship is mixing the poisoned bowl.”

No more laughing like the waves. No more ocean of words to drink from.

As a child I wanted to behold the elusive squid, the patience of eels.