the best strawberry is the smallest, not-in-the-garden strawberry that grows between and beneath the grass and tallgrass

the Aurora roared above us and in sweeping, arcing curves mimicked the path of the luge.

the truck is gone. the truck is scrap. (just that one half of the bumper, just that license plate from Big… everything else is gone.

refreshing to know there’s still n… that’s unsure of its footing. love that’s unsure of what to do a… standing in the truck head-light g… feeling small

when you get started and you don’t… start digging slowly and softly, move things around. i turned over a rock

like the name says, we were there together. and it wasn’t long before we had built a fire and stargazing became staring down

some metal piece out of place disturbs everything and suddenly i’m windbound on a calm night. left to my own devices,

the still rising sun calls to you to rise; early morning dawn light brings you to a particular log and leaves you there,

A stone in the lake old as water. Older than any question. Older than dirt and more stubborn. Round.

everyone sees the red-torn deer ca… the mess made dragging her to be shouldered, everyone gawks and shifts the weight of

it is March now. winter hangs on while spring looks on waiting.

before you go, things left undone. loose ends, too many to tie so quickly.

something feels as though it is at unease because it has not settled.

Fish fry in Benoit. Joyce brings a hundred dollars in cod and beer almost right to your mouth and you wonder if it’s

sit in a tunnel fall at the northernmost point trip around the sun.