Poetry

Only as time do I breathe spindly branches in fall’s hoped inscapements. Our hands, feathered veins, inhale ichor and work with Cain. Like life in another garden’s fall do I dread

The bean plants are crawling up the trellis, little curlicues weaving through the twine, gripping and climbing diligently towards the sky, making a ladder for a curious young man to ascend– we’ll

She never seemed to like us. Toward the semester’s end, she left typed notes on the classroom door Out sick. Please read the Woolf. The small thrill of a class cancelled— relieved

Redolent and obstreperous are two words Spring light, midmorning brings to mind. A light whose heavy rollers and rip tides Pull houses to its sea all sheets to wind. Strange to watch the

I have bought 5 yoke of oxen to mow the unruly hair of the dead body out back where the vultures gather: leaves from last year’s disappointment, the stumps that refuse digging