Today in the taxi my passenger was crying into her phone. She’d just had a miscarriage. Who was she talking to? Her mother, perhaps. She hoped there was an invisible hand Continue reading →

four-months in this world & puppy-footed goes scavenging the backyard for death skunks the leaf rot, the mulchy bed of dog shit & rocks beneath a crackling ice sheet, finds a Continue reading →

My wife thinks the crows are talking to her with their midnight beaks and ragged feathers and maybe she sees the sky through their eyes the reef of dark storm cloud Continue reading →

When I was eleven, they felled the juniper that grazed our small blue house— (In every poem, a quiet thing that it means to keep safe. If this poem had an Continue reading →

It’s good, he said, the way memory sometimes slips a gauzy film between the then and the now, so that the egrets you’re sure you saw flapping over the traffic, just Continue reading →