A Tribute

  Tears burn yellow, burn wide, in the sun. The small sunflower seeds left over along your collar and in your hair. They are senseless, aimless, unceasing. This is the definition of mourning. It is a marionette, a song, unweaving.     August 11, 2014,...

Sunflowers,

  and concern. There is a vase of the yellow masses in the window. They remain motionless despite the sound of the air cracking, the belt. Thirteen, fourteen. His body, in this space, is pointless.     August 10, 2014, MLT  ...

Dragonflies: A Snapshot

  In the rain, they are too small. The wings, the small holes, the designs, are filled with water. Their bodies glisten. I collected a jar of them and kept them in the garage for winter, one side frosted with window air. Their bodies quickly froze to the sides, a...

In Plain Sight

  Left out on the farm, there is the threat to turn cold. The discovery of the skeleton of an opossum on the line between the yard and the field, blending into the rocks. Like a small jesus—and the wise men are touching walking sticks to forehead. I think...

Caterpillar Towns

  Look at the way the body separates; the individual, round skulls—the rotation, the turn, the hum. The brains lift down into the feet, small propellers. As if you and I were connected, somehow.     August 7, 2014, MLT  ...