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I walked that land with him, one and mingling, breaking into breath.

Into the storm, the iridescent cosmos. To the savage dances of sunset.

It was only a matter of time before the damp of loss grew within us like moss.

A ripple across the darker fathom, no sooner there than torn away.

Four wings of silk without a trace of dust perched upon a silken line.

It is cruel, this business of exile and divorce. I will not deny it.

God is there between things, sitting at his own left hand.

Lie down & whisper all your careless dreams into my votive ear.

The waves have heard of you. How you caress, how you kiss.

Noelle, somewhere symphony number two listens to you breathing.

Why do you keep so much from your husband, don’t you trust him?

Imagine being able to calm the one you love best, who loves you best.

It’s the human genius of reproducing not quite exactly.

What I want is a woman who knows all the meanings of indulgence.

I loved the game not for its shapes alone, but for symmetry’s quiet flash.

I must be led by what was given to me as streams are led by it

Perhaps the only way to see a whole body is to see one coming out of you.

Such longings: Errant. Verdant. To have a good time. And dream.

Instead, she stares right at us, her shoulder half-naked in broad daylight.

What a good time we could have if we were happy to be who we are.

I’ve never heard of Badgley Mischka (A person? Two people? Man?)

His spirit shone fiercely, shaming the chasm by illuminating it.

My days pass through me as music through a thin, stretched wire.

Her girlish hand the color of rich vanilla floating over the flotsam.

They rise in waves, while a lone hawk remains unperturbed.

Our grandmothers were bakers and nurses, spies and traitors.

Brod stopped her before she could fling the latte in Marcella’s face.

The world beyond the windows slowly tips forward into spring.

The year we left the reservation a white boy gave me a trash bag.