When I see the little holes where the earrings used to be I wonder what they embraced and then renounced to get to now.

Upon that special mound there is a cleanliness, a purity sanctimonious, something so perfect it’s numerological—

There is a most worthy woman, the upper steward of the manor, Obermeyer of Holy Terra, house cute, smokestack simmering,

I saw him on the side of the road, on the side of the interstate exit… Maybe he was 18, definitely not 21… tired but not yet haggard. The moment I saw him

Stay until the walls dissolve, problem solved. No Mustangs on this Mesa just a billion stars, a vendetta forgotten, secured.

I saw a man and his crumb snatcher… sprawled on the porch of their hom… it was painted a bright ocher with… small, modest, humble, clean, givi… A joy, in short.

The bar room is a bed of embers fanning themselves expediently, huddling to outlast the dark. A whoosh of autumn air ruffling their complexion each time

The cicada, once with the humility of a barnac… weeping beneath the fern, now screams its inane mantra, which

Needless of a judge, a contrite heart is a bird suspended on a current, shifting myriad planes without asking or telling.

Think you’re doing something? Thing you’ve got some power? You can walk on coals, swallow poison and live, but who is at the helm

At a certain point in your ordeal, it isn’t your ordeal that bothers… It is the fact that everything is… That’s what really bothers you. Because what happened is not OK,

It occurs to me now that no one hears my song. Still young, I am discarded. I don’t anticipate being surprised at my aloneness in old age.

S, I gotta tell you, this sixty-five cents is worse than a lump of coal. I pray the remover of obstacles

In the most lovely of lands, before a backdrop of mountains and palms, there hangs a pall— All my Loves