cinderella
he saw you, blue / as frostbite, wild soot-stained hair and manic eyes, / your heart, a birdhouse of caged fluttering / wings.
uncas
little woman, / may your feet be steep as mountains / may you creep into the muddied seas / and dribble into the warm skies.
Corvid Dreams
In the dream, you told me / the raven’s secrets, the names / by which crows call themselves, / the secret powers of jays.
Mare Anguis
this is a blank spot / on a map of blank spots / labeled, “here there be”
Still Life
On the TV, you want to watch those
Richard Linklater movies, our answer to sex…
Pilot Narratives
For me, the grim realities of flight did not negate The Little Prince— / instead, I became more certain / that everything Saint-Exupéry said was true: / that same sincere voice, that never-lost child’s wonder / at being alive.
