Stories
One Wheel
What I Could Hear
Winter Story
Sick with the Sun

Poems
What to Say
Home
Jealousy
Wake
Hiking a Mountain...
North for Winter
When I love you...
Induction
Poem
Dusk
Seven Hours
The Morning After
Learning to Drive
Place of White Plains
Green on Blue...
The First Time...
How I Am
For hours...
Enter June dusk...
Inside

Inside

The lonely are always a step away from comfort
with the nearest edge fleeting beyond the boundaries
of their bodies. Even the people Iíve married
have soft hands when touching the cold skin
of the day. Not one word can openó
conversations between the night and morning sun
are one-sided: the imagination of romance has driven
love from our bodies to form in the leaves of a maple
rippled with wind. I am a wire in the grass
preparing to leave the earth for the surface of night.


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