THE MUSEYou owe me. Pay up. According to my accounts, you have...
CASUAL FRIENDSend lies to the people listed below....
THE AWARDS COMMITTEEThis is to notify you that--but what's the use?...
THE WISEThe world could fall to pieces with no notice....
UNCLE ALA chicken is a touchy creature....
THE OTHERSHere where we live the lines are down and the surprises build into snowbanks...
DANNYDusty Clinton Township kids making paper roosters and snowball...
SAMUEL RENSBERGER I am your grandfather's grandfather and through my wakeless sleep I dream...
OLD NEIGHBOREast across low muddy fields and behind the screening trees you can see...
THE WORM COUNCILWe call your attention to worms. Though sweeping ice age disaster...
THE HERONI flew in down by the round deep pond behind your house...
WITNESSI saw the largest moon ever rise huge bright yellow, sailing where it cared to...
MEMORIAL DAY: DIGGING THE GARDEN
Just less than spade deep
I scrape a slab of limestone
with shapely, squared-off corners,
level side upmost
in the dark clay. It nests
in the dirt, weighty, permeable, settled.
I heave it up,
it skins the prints from my fingers,
I am in a cool sweat of work now.
I lift the stone to my cheek
and press against its gritty plane.
A treasure from someone else's life.