wood smoke redolentof campfires at Ocean Pond of spruce and pine pilferedfrom the lumber yard where they worked my father andfriends of my father pleiades redolent of amberglow stories told of blinking night overzipper pulls announcing silence still, low burns the firewarm glows the lantern, still

Town Center: A Draft

Raincast mosaic on my hotel windowstreaks Fogo de Chao andblurs too-small memories where here (for example) I shook the man’s handtoo small to see pastthe shadow of work or there (I presume) the slash pines stoodtoo small to stand againstCheesecake Factory. In silence unawarethey were taken down,down across the river flowing. Drop a quarter in… Continue reading Town Center: A Draft


I asked the wind-beaten mountainwhat she would becomeEverything and nothing, she whisperedlike songIs all we’ll ever beall and not at all That night there was no mountainwhere the wind-beaten mother stoodonly darkness allall and not at all By her whisper-song unsettledI turned to grandfather in morning sunto ask who I would becomeI was you once,… Continue reading Sylva