today
settles on
winter fields hover-
ing at the edge
just a ghost
of wings
today
1560
today
collapses its old
bones set free from
the obligation
of tragedy we run
down cobblestones
to see
1559
today
lumbers in this
dream a heavy four-
legged bear and I
begrudgingly
ask all the wrong
questions
1558
today
doesn’t knock
doesn’t notice
its key no longer
fits the feng shui
blue of the new
front door
1557
today
hides a soft
huddle by the rear
right tire I slam
shut my empty mail-
box today yawns
pink through the
echo
1556
1538
1218
today is loud in the trees — the sound of rain before water.
I answer a knock on the door but I see no one.
there’s a box on the porch and I can’t read the return address.
autumn’s voice the sound of rain before water
nahai (water) … thirty days
744
today escapes. it stalks and lunges beneath the dew-dripping branches of yesterday.
today growls when I disrupt its feral dream.
742
today vines so I coax, I wind. it leaves a sharp promise on my fingers.
today is the scent of tomorrow, a hollow-water space filled with seed.
