in the autumn wind
katydid
trumpet of the dead
I’m listening
felled on migration
the clouds in his eyes
in the pines
my ration
of moonlight
In the sun’s house
we saw for the first time what a complete absence of nuance would look like. How irresistible it would be.
insomniac eyelids on strike for overtime
driving home from the hospital
the boundless sky
snail chewing
on an empty snail shell
the autumn ahead
to each their own fall
rhododendron leaves
tropical depression
touch-me-not quivering
in the rain
Two trains running
Trying to find the words for a rock oak on the mountainside…
humid evening
a small cloud gathers
on the road
end of summer
holes
in mushroom parasols
