In a Dream I Speak Perfect Mandarin
vague shape of a person, perhaps made up
of broken seashells : the sound of fractured edges toned
FISH
He hovers over her, like Goldie after Kurt, as she floats and undulates in her half-dreams, me staring out the window, wondering if the fish might be dying rather than giving birth.
Domestic Realism
my mother married a willow tree on a hilltop, sat under its boughs through four decades of rain in a day
Wishing on the Solid Gold Inamorato
I was probably a maniac beyond salvation. That’s why I needed to meet with the Solid Gold Inamorato.
Two Poems
The past is an animal with its teeth bared.
ON WORLDBUILDING
and she’ll never die, and we won’t either.
The Bone House
Everyone knows when you build a bone house that you start with the front.