Splintered fences

There are morning crows on the splintered fences, yakking and pushing each other around.  The first crunches of ice on the ground, these cheap boots that let the water in. I want this all to be over.  I want it only to begin. I long to reach in to the gut and the lungs and…

A simple longing

​Here in the clamorous night my fingers upon your mouth the summer birds seek shores  untouched by rain, silver and silent in their flight. And I can think of no greater joy beneath these wild oyster stars than to fall asleep in the cold grass and be licked awake by daylight.

The mouths of the stars

It’s burning and it’s brittle, this strange and little thing of ours; Sometimes I see the wings of the sun, then the gaping mouths of the stars, And can I help it, if I can’t stop dreaming of you? I wish you would lay down beside me, in the weightless cradle of the night, and…