Cool summer nights. Windows open. Lamps burning. Fruit in the bowl. And your head on my shoulder.

Fear of seeing a police car pull i… Fear of falling asleep at night. Fear of not falling asleep. Fear of the past rising up. Fear of the present taking flight.

These fish have no eyes these silver fish that come to me… scattering their roe and milt in the pockets of my brain. But there’s one that comes—

This morning was something. A lit… lay on the ground. The sun floated… blue sky. The sea was blue, and bl… as far as the eye could see. Scarcely a ripple. Calm. I dresse…

it gets run over by a van. you find it at the side of the roa… and bury it. you feel bad about it. you feel bad personally,

She serves me a piece of it a few… out of the oven. A little steam ri… from the slits on top. Sugar and s… cinnamon - burned into the crust. But she’s wearing these dark glass…

By the time I came around to feel… and woke up, moonlight flooded the room. My arm lay paral… propped up like an old anchor unde… your back. You were in a dream,

Early one Sunday morning everythi… the child’s canopy bed and vanity… the sofa, end tables and lamps, bo… of assorted books and records. We… kitchen items, a clock radio, hang…

October. Here in this dank, unfa… I study my father’s embarrassed yo… Sheepish grin, he holds in one han… of spiny yellow perch, in the othe… a bottle of Carlsbad Beer.

On the Columbia River near Vanta… Washington, we fished for whitefis… in the winter months; my dad, Swed… Mr. Lindgren-and me. They used b… pencil-length sinkers, red, yellow…

It’s what the kids nowadays call w… like clouds from his lips. He hope… comes along tonight, or calls to a… Help is what he’s most short on to… A storm thrashes outside. Heavy s…

As he writes, without looking at t… he feels the tip of his pen begin… The tide is going out across the s… But it isn’t that. No, it’s because at that moment she ch…