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Tear-streaked mascara, mascara-stained cheeks: a cataract of woe.

Complicity can crease the tongue back on itself like an origami dog.

I’m the shrunken dead like them, here, greening the sky’s bluer potion.

I would chase it to the shores of the lake where the killer waited.

Sitting on the edge, I leaned back and fell, wrist-deep, into the body of a deer.

I’m trying to believe I can sense the river when I can’t. Hard to call beauty an affliction, but I think it is what makes my blindness hurt.

Getting over being drunk makes you wonder why the hell you did that.

All that I’ve had, I’ve left propped up in a glass vase: cut stems at rest.

If all along we all had known the leaves we leafed would leave us

The cherry tree’s trance of petals tumbled bit by bit to the sidewalk.

The light from dead stars only exists in the minds of the living.

There it was, the urge to hurt one’s neck by craning toward the dazzle.

Their marriage had dwindled to a separation and a running joke.

Knowing that it will end i saw myself again at the fair popping balloons

Heat heat and the sky a flame of sapphire, even rocks blazing.

We boarded a ferry eager for foaming water rushing toward our feet.

Husk was sturdy. He just breathed like it. Not like me. My lungs rattle.

We claw over earth, unfurling flowers, knit so close we know power.

I have never seen a bird, but I tell stories of creatures that walk the sky.

Surrender me to shallows and the salt gallop of a rising surf.

Cold metal stands upon my brow; Spiders seek my heart.

We went. We did. We went to Dead Horse but couldn’t stay.

I seek these ghosts because they allow me to return home outside of time.

And jesse, the smart bombs do not recognize the babies.

He got his wife off a German farmer, for whom he went to work one day.