OCCUPANTThe sad mailbox of my extreme youth, what did it ever deliver? The only...
A CRITICPick up your socks. Clean the house once in a while. Go to the dentist. ...
HISTORIANPiles and piles of books, boxes of documents, photographs, bones, shreds of clothes...
YOU WHO KNOWI was just enough bigger that I could wrestle you into the clean straw of the mow...
GRIFFY LAKEI spread my smooth water like a lap and caught the trees' faces where they fell...
HIDING
in the forest
of many nights
he eases his heart
with solitude
polishing
polishing
his cheekbones till they
glimmer in the dark
you can find your way
the light is not
so dim
it is a beacon
of consolation
an egg
containing the future
about which
one can always hope