the pond’s ice creaks
under her weight
Category: critters
old jawbones
lying at right angles
my camera is a phone
mountain road
the forest within a forest
of porcupine quills
In a dream, I ask advice on raising children
and am told to bury them in the yard so they’ll ripen.
Every autumn
I’m impressed anew by the sheer inventiveness of death.
I dreamed I’d written a book about all my disguises.
When I woke up, it was true.
where that heron used to stand
a painting of a heron
