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They say the night watchman is so good he hears the grass growing.

Screaming, the children flew toward the trees in their saucers.

I stuff cotton in my ears, bits of bird’s nest, anything to stop all that talk.

Up there there’s not a sound except for the wind and the buzzing of bees.

Fires, always fires after midnight, the sun depending in the purple birches.

Wanderer moon smiling a faintly ironical smile at this summer morning—

My body. Stop the air. Travel by stopping, full stop, just there.

sunrise reminds the shama to emerge from her perch in the pandanus tree

She had seen him take the crop to a girl for doing nothing at all.

There was a fish. And then there was the consciousness of robots.

A man jostles my stride to the street, no shoulder on which to move.

We cling to an exact number of planets, to the Earth Our Mother.

They need to be named, loved, then unnamed to be seen once more.

Pulling the bird from his throat, how it’ll smell of bloodied oat.

It was a Hmong villager who roped you with dogs on the chase.

My children, children, remember to let me go, delete my number.

“If the world is becoming a void, the artist must fill it with his soul.”

we are saying thank you in doorways and in the backs of cars

That there are five sturdy red Gerber daisies in a jar on the table.

A woman pushing a walker understands—gravel can be pain.

Afterward, it was nature that was blind, and she who was wild.

I have seen your ocean. I have heard your waves beside my bed.

He grew a forest of candles and cried when it succumbed to wildfire.

For the first time in her life she stood naked in the open air.

A photo essay on hope in the wake of the devastating Bosnian War.

The blackbirds in the rain upon the dead topbranches notate the dawn.

The trees were a sign from the devil, a warning of the terror to come.

Watch out. That we thought him gone only proves his wily knowledge.

Men veer into the earth and don’t come out. Silent choirs of canaries roost in a forest of chimneys.

The billows murmur at our feet, where the earth and ocean meet.