And then, after six years, she saw him again.
Although Bertha Young was thirty she still had moments like this when she wanted to run instead of walk, to take dancing steps on and off the pavement, to bowl a hoop, to throw something up in the air and catch it again, or to stand still and laugh at—nothing—at nothing, simply.
And after all the weather was ideal.
As a rule, I'm an intuitive and exploratory poet. I'm interested in the discovery…
Yeats found patterns in the rhythm of a place, changes in pitch, the boat is a song—it is locations.
5 April 2006
the caw sharp
as an eclipse, cuts
deft arcs, opens up…
23 March 2006
I pried myself
from chaos here.
We are things like trees or dogs.
20 March 2006
I ruined us. I thought
me a bottle gentian, you a bumblebee.
Instead we competed.
Goodbye mutualism, I said, goodbye symbiosis.
17 March 2006
All I think is watch the I
and the I takes over. I'm so sick
of branches equal limbs
equal my legs and arms…
& if he died I would hold love
in the cracks below the heart, a caged
hand waiting to enfold its animal…
14 May 2006
Perhaps today's wind will release sheep onto a mountain you love…
17 May 2006
the man empties his angel, meets a worn version of his daughter's face…
29 April 2006
Postcards from Eugene
suggestive of definition
fate, an odor
from the table beside me…
2 May 2006
Never a lover
I kept you
in the feretory of my heart
alongside other relics…
26 April 2006
admission meaning death
at the hands we love…
Your mother calls on what would have been your 24th birthday. Yanking each word from the flowerbed of her gut…
29 March 2006
It would be much simpler
to sleep with a composition of wheat.
Near dreaming horses.
30 May 2006
TV ads for new trucks
more horsepower, more durability, more torque.
a stranger, a near stranger…
For my calling I crawl,
vermin-like, through a glade with a battalion of burnt
tanks, their guns every which-way, matchsticks.
14 April 2006
Stayed two nights in Yuma
with Paul and Marie. A good rest.
500 miles today.
11 April 2006
We're heading south
toward the border, but snow
keeps following us.
And all hours long, the town
Roars like a beast in a cave…
On that day
I shall put roses on roses, and cover your grave
With multitude of white roses…
I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
26 March 2006
…everything abstract that made you intransitive
A creature without distance…
11 March 2006
it's the soap again
slipping out the window
pigeon-holed an antonym
of clean; what do you
The little mouse has claimed the kitchen, spread out like a rind,
and under the cedar beam is you: a tent, sturdy as that—with people through the slit
that mimics a shy face in profile
determined not to full-on.
8 April 2006
In summer, I remember where I'm from and why
my knees smell like yellow onions—
why you, Erin, are standing in my living room
straddling your brother's outgrown Huffy—
you want me back in the cul-de-sac badlands.
5 May 2006
If I had a fedora's
starched heart I'd stir a horn in the streets
to announce our bourgeois surrender.
8 May 2006
There is a mother that loves you
despite the sum of your parts.
She really is hefting gravel and gravel
just to heft gravel.
27 May 2006
She can only imagine cars
on the highway. Thinks they must glint like boats
on a blue harbor. She can only imagine boats
on a blue harbor.