On November

It seems entirely possible to be two things at once. And no matter how much I try to help, I end up taking back what I say every time. There is no such… Continue reading

On This Time Of Year

When I talk to you, all I here is the rattle of what we are not saying. There are big mustard flowered fields between the gaps of our words. You now live in… Continue reading

I Get Your Grief

I don’t write anymore anything I can read back to myself out loud. I haven’t written about it in months. He tells me he understands how my writing is nonlinear, how I excavate… Continue reading

Like Trout

Ideas like the trout in that river in Montana. If you don’t catch them, they’re going to someone else.  Somewhere in Utah they’re building a utopia for the thinkers and the makers, and… Continue reading

On June Bugs and Hummingbirds

Among the millions of things I am worried about right now, you are not one of them. There is a June bug outside the kitchen window that has for the entire morning so… Continue reading

On The Muscle

It’s nothing and everything like you thought it might be. The words come out dry and sand like, they slip between your fingers, between your lips. They’re all used up and dried and… Continue reading

We Still Pray South

I keep on dreaming of places where the sea stretches so far ahead of me I lose my footing. Places where time seems to have stopped, the world grown up around it, ivy… Continue reading

On The Time

If you’re lucky, which you are, you come out the other side of this twice the person you are right now. If you’re lucky, which you are, this will one day seem like… Continue reading

It Rains in Texas

It rains in Texas. It rains big spit like drops against the over grown grass in the backyard, turns dirt to mud, makes the porch smell like we live in wet woods always.… Continue reading

It Is Long

We make homes in the most unlikely of places. I am never where I thought I might be,  would never want to be where I thought I might be. Because time has a… Continue reading

On What Grows

There is nothing that changes what we do now. We’re so far flung from that orbit it doesn’t even make sense to talk about it, to use comparisons, to think of one another… Continue reading

On A Train

In the morning everything is grey, and kissing you near the harbor now feels like a month ago. I could not tell you everything that passes by in a train window. Make a… Continue reading

On The Oranges

There is an orange tree outside and you tell me that, I have never noticed it. But, it’s right outside the window and their pops of color seem to me to have preordained… Continue reading

On Walking

There is something distinct in me that approves of walking. It feels as if the world is in its proper place and I could not imagine to be someone other than who I… Continue reading

One Month, Maybe Three

We’re less than ourselves half the time. I am stretched thin and the flowers have already begun to fade. I suppose it is the constant awareness of aging that makes us feel as… Continue reading