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Category Archives: Poetry

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“Domestic Still Life”

We heard only the shudder of a jet approaching louder, but it could have been the end of the world, and it wouldn’t have mattered. I was in the kitchen, washing dishes, soaring through the window, the light that brilliance right before the mist takes

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“Wolf Creek”

The creek-bed is littered with salt and silt and chicken wire. At one time, the cattle could stand   on their own. The fencing rust-eaten but still thick with heat. You stayed with the children   until they fell asleep. I tried to explain how

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I am interminably white. I limp, gasping and feathery, into your last blueness. I want the adoration of flowers.   O tightly wrapped little things, cheeky reds, delectable yellows, how they close against me! How do they know my beauty’s all glam glitter over bone?

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It is as if the old woman in the square raised her hand to you, and I, the devoted master, packed you off to Samarkand, thinking you would be safe from her influence. There is no Samarkand in these parts, nor dark old women known

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“A Room in the Museum”

In Teotihuacán, we walk on sheets of glass, thick enough to sustain our heavy heels as we tread the sky of the model Aztec city beneath us, scaled and laid out like a blanket. Outside, there are ruins. In here, things are complete, and we