In a fold in the hills lies/ my home, tugged awake/ at dawn by slender/ twists of fog./ They slip through

I learned a glyph/ to speak to your/ dry canopic heart// (and what/ we whisper/ must remain sealed)

What/ importance/ am/ I// but/ to/ be/ your/ sunshine,/ your/ rainbow// on/ a/ cloudy

You said you’d always stay/ but I remember you packing up and and leaving/ We promised we’d

Once we sat by the fire/ and chased the ashes/ with our eyes/ pretended we were fireflies

This black sky scattered/ with bright stars,// ink-dark carpet glittering/ with unstrung pearls

As I drove through shadows,/ alone in the night,/ a poem came to me,/ writing its words across my

The wolves live at the spot/ where I go to feed them/ out past the orchard/ where trees grow

A cold whimper/ Calling from the backyard/ As he rested across the muck/ In his favorite place

They said 'That's all water under the bridge;/ you have to forgive'./ But they did not see the murkiness

There it is./ My reflection in the mirror staring back at me./ No, wait—/ That’s just her./ A portrait

are we here/ instead of feasting round a table/ as snow erases every footprint// or counting the

sky flings flakes./ trees leaning naked/ chilled beneath charcoal-colored skies/ bare branches

The bright of new morn/ falls across my body/ sleep-swaying/ in a blue hammock// Out on the streets

The desert/ Kept its promise/ And assured/ The timeless vision/ Of camel trains/ Processioning

You said that you'd return/ as I watched you sail off,/ to somewhere far away./ You said it wouldn't

5:20 early/ Dark — crashing waves begin to/ Fade as the tide turns and the skies/ Light and a

Angel in a glass sphere, all/ who touch you hold your destiny./ A movement of a single

In maple shade, hot noon turns/ to speckled twilight. A mother and two/ daughters wear

Who is the patterner of water? Does she draw/ slow circles in the ample lakes of your eyes