Old elm (revised)
Abandoned farmhouse, graying outbuildings. In your final winter, you stood with empty, cracking branches to tell us plain that your …
Abandoned farmhouse, graying outbuildings. In your final winter, you stood with empty, cracking branches to tell us plain that your …
Even the spires of milkweed bend over in the low tumble of wind through the prairie, dry reeds tapping hollow …
In my belly, now flat, curled a spine with indistinct tissue wrapped around its tiny bones like those of a …
Our communion last night was pizza and chocolates and trailing conversation, a wide prairie for your memory to bound through. …
Evergreens surround your house, a fortress wall heavy with snow. In black recesses I wade, the snow bounds off the …
Earth grieves each November, again finds itself wailing in sorrow, refusing to get out of bed. For its own tears …
hazy dry, as if in midair distant beeps, rattles, blood pressure cuff wheezing up, releasing, hour after hour, day may …
o’ wondrous pain, illuminating discomfort — how you have painted this earth to suit your ease, the slow swing of …
I think of love as something that grows form as it ages, sometimes firm, sometimes round, broadening, ambling if allowed. …
Late in the afternoon that day, as the low sun pierced the leaves like a thousand glimmering stars, each of …