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Journeysexpand_moreHad I always known this would happen? There had been no signs.
I couldn’t love the tree in every soul shouldering its own tiny autumn.
He fell to the floor and begged the gods. The gods were silent.
Karen was, in that moment, nothing, emptiness. She was oblivion.
There were more whispered speculations about his relative sobriety.
I had the tongue of an adder and my heart was black with rage and hate.
We have harvested nothing more than the stench of middle age.
In every pair, one shoe smells of exodus, the other of the body’s sweat.
One door teaches to read for meaning and pleasure. Another shuts.
When I land we argue over the little hazards a marriage is made of.
The highway hot with possibility, a new herd expected every five miles.
Fitzgerald was about to turn thirty and felt the press of time.
Bone unspools its musculature to the crush of atmosphere.
do you asks pretty sue know what I love what pretty please tell us
When she sleeps, Shakespeare writes one more sonnet we’ll never read.
Your soul feels old and familiar like a book that opens to my favorite pages.
That’s why Mam drinks whiskey. That’s why he drinks whiskey too.
Suddenly, all of the past seemed now like the same endless race.
Think of the fish whose stripes appear only on cooking through. Fold each thought: the highway stop where toilet paper is piled.
This body is all I have, I say. Some days it is still not enough.
I do not want to fall prey to the bewitchment of my mind by language.
I hadn’t always liked being around my mother while she was alive.
I can’t talk yet. But I know things. I will tell you all this later when I can.
We imagined the train routes through the heart of the country.
I lost my medicine bag from back when I believed in magic.
The materials were everyday and the possibilities were open-ended.
Everything doesn’t have to mean something, he once said. Now that he’s a father, I want to read him the thing I’m writing about fathers.
Your intelligence and charisma would serve you well in life.
I worry that I will be kidnapped by my cab driver and driven to an ATM.
My advice is to take advice with a grain of salt.