3/23/19




who took the egg of the moon
from the mouth of a child
for each to know air



3/20/19





is it the pressure of the brush
that lifts the world
like feather



3/10/19




i was a child
and a silver craft fell home
into nobody else







dream looked around inside the child
            found room    burned
                        a Ferris wheel down



3/6/19




accept sunlight on winter aconite
father
who never asked me my name






stones are slow
slower than me
turning into breeze



3/3/19




our eyes open in the afternoon
we see dusk
through falling snow



3/2/19




prayer kneels down
wind builds a nest
for the passenger you carry without knowing



3/1/19




a dark hand reached through you
brought the gift in
birth



2/25/19





we stood close
            where desert was praying
                        and the wind burned us down



2/14/19





a branch of the sky breaks
            with a whisper
                        the boy will never forget







shoveling water, sweeping rain
            at the end of my street
                        neighbors are soaring



2/12/19





hear the lie spoken as if inside me
            push debris off the wharf
                        into a breeze crossing the sea



2/11/19





your face in a window of the Atlantic
                        turns away—
            every stone in the sea stops sinking



2/10/19





the shipwrecked themselves turn into water
like the cradle
                        that ferried me here



2/9/19





the dream drew an oven on the kitchen wall
            used my hands to hold the mass
                        that heaved without a bone



2/8/19





how much earth
            must i lose
                        to claim the moon’s white shoes



2/4/19





i miss the world
            mountains lost and lost
                        the ark unable to land



2/2/19





like soft thin pine leaves
            needled with frost
i sleep naked in the world







the dark in an open boat comes back
            whispering its need for life



2/1/19





my coffin sinks then rises

            the face of the wind feels wings



1/31/19





a winter rose
in unfinished skies—
                                                where the raven hasn’t died



1/28/19





the dream grows new rooms
for a man i do not know
for the altar one sees at the end



1/26/19





when i separate from my hands,
            said the water,
                        whose journey will be done



1/24/19





one grain of rice
                        (for many bowls)
the guest left behind



1/23/19





black wings block the black rain
            journey begins
anchor seeks a sail



1/22/19





the task of wandering
          across that scar in my heart
                        where new light falls



1/21/19





crossing the river above the trees
                                                           
                                                                        my flood raised to feather







late in our moon
and no
one
asleep in the barn



1/20/19





through ice works
            on maple buds—
                        —long walk to the sun







many times of being lost
            in place
like a lake between the waters



1/19/19




was it the ecstasy of plants
            —when blood learned it could be silent






a child's cup of moonlight was the thread of my returning



1/18/19





something eternal
            worn down
                        to a man who believes he’s sleeping



1/17/19




my flaws drifting from stone to stone—becoming the white sky



12/29/18




in a nest shaped like death
      night lays its transparent eggs






the garden hardly seemed to breathe
      as i grew and it dreamed and we died






that star that fell up a crooked sky
      into the bed where its heart would stop



8/13/18




was wonderful
to come home
to the goldfinch you've been watching







one burst of leaf fall
ahead of me
that only i later i see as prayer



7/23/18





something all alone is near
            thus the mountains of my past
                        come true







the sounds of a sail
this day
i put on the sun



7/6/18





too small to
                        feed a soul    the
                                                            broken shine





6/14/18




old chimney fires lingering in the alley through november



6/11/18




studies of happiness stitched into the silence of a white piano



6/7/18

5/17/18




memory of falling stars    November    waking the dark water



3/31/18

3/30/18