1.  Overtures

If things

(as they are)

are the skins our selves

will shed,

say them as we are.


If our selves

(as they are)

are shadows things

have cast,

trail them as we go.


Here: the weather

gods glance

up from their perch.

Praise what

now envelops us.


2.  What It Is

Paper wasp,


against the skylight

as if that’s what “longing” is –

(That’s what longing is.)


3.  Futures

The price of November

hogs is broadcast nightly

into near space. (As each

wood-grain radio, tuned

to some remote frequency,


rewakens.) Love, we spend

our life making the same

seven mistakes: let’s stay

up a few minutes more.

(May we begin.) We begin.



Originally published in Quarterly West