Explore

Homily and Other Poems

Here lies the girl difficult to discern. Here lies the girl misanthropic.

Hope

Snug in the spell of a cradle rocking, I remember the first time I floated.

Horn Gate and Other Poems

Rays burst from behind the mountain, sweep the broad beach.

How Fish Learned to Sing

It’s impossible to identify where your voice ends and the magnitude begins.

How I Became a Banker

When the thugs from the bank showed, up my father laughed.

How It Began and Other Poems

I could feel the floor’s slight pitch. We were in for a long, long voyage.

How to Live in an American Town

You are the only one who knows not to pour water on the flame.

How to Read a Poem

My advice would be not to trust. The ocean is just the ocean until I say otherwise.

How?

As the whorled fingerpad loves Morse, but more so. Worse.

Hunan Wishes

The wok oil ready to tremble and smoke—everything, ready.

Hyperobject

I only divine the cat’s location when I hear its small cough.

I Am Nearly Twenty-Five

It’s not the sun and all its colonies that miss you—it’s the frailest barriers.

I Lost My Pen, I Lost My Keys

I lost my pen, I lost my keys, and my hat somewhere on a table.

I Wake a Little Earlier Each Morning

You’re certain that they’re harmless, benign as a flock of founding fathers.

I Want to Know Why

There’s something I saw at the race meeting I can’t figure out.

I Was a Barking Dog

When I was a woman, I was all reason and my reason was unjust.

I Will Meet You at the End

Take my hand, lead me by heart over the blind stepping-stones to the edge.

I Would Have a Woman as Real as Death

I give you a real blue song the mountains hold under their foot.

If You Are Water

If you are water my left hand is a horse thief my right hand is alder smoke.

Ill-Advised Love Poem

Come live with me. We could plant acorns in each other’s mouths.

In Airports

It was the season of storm delays, of . . . shame and ghosts on trains

In Custody and Other Poems

Make haste, my love, I am redrawing the scale of escape.

In Eulogies

When you are a father, want sons. There is some math in this.

In New York

It’s raining concrete. I bite my grief wetly. Who will test these chains?

In Search of Inner Mongolia

“I want to stay in real yurts,” I said, “not yurts for Westerners.”

In the Absence of Rain

Blacked-out little angel, you shuffle home under the streetlights.

In the Guise of Couplets

Every room came furnished half-real & dead like mirrors on skin

In the Land of Many Enemies

Bad luck, like the white-scabs disease, can infect others.

In the Shadow of the Glen

It’s other things than the like of you would make a person afeard.

In the Water

It lay slumped where they’d dragged it, a fright of an animal.