OCCUPANT
The sad mailbox of my extreme youth, what did it ever deliver? The only...

A CRITIC
Pick up your socks. Clean the house once in a while. Go to the dentist. ...

HISTORIAN
Piles and piles of books, boxes of documents, photographs, bones, shreds of clothes...

YOU WHO KNOW
I was just enough bigger that I could wrestle you into the clean straw of the mow...

GRIFFY LAKE
I spread my smooth water like a lap and caught the trees' faces where they fell...

LATE OCTOBER

I am rain-tranced, fed with sleep.
Out on the back roads where
the wind slumps down on gravel
the old year goes inside out
and cries its bones away.
Are you on those roads?
When the wind blows cold
does it blow your way?