OCCUPANT
The sad mailbox of my extreme youth, what did it ever deliver? The only...

A CRITIC
Pick up your socks. Clean the house once in a while. Go to the dentist. ...

HISTORIAN
Piles and piles of books, boxes of documents, photographs, bones, shreds of clothes...

YOU WHO KNOW
I was just enough bigger that I could wrestle you into the clean straw of the mow...

GRIFFY LAKE
I spread my smooth water like a lap and caught the trees' faces where they fell...

FLAT LAND

At the edge of the world, the sun burns.
This flat land is all smoke
from some dreamer's fire.
The blue dark maple woods
steam in the heat of the dream
and the corn stands in rows shouting
its dream name: black swollen tongue,
black swollen tongue.