The cats in the neighborhood—strays, gray as the gauzy in-between of dawn and sunrise—lounge open. October, and if they know winter’s coming they don’t show it. I looked for them the first months I noticed, checked beneath the car before driving wherever it was I felt meant to go, and, now, no: the car is black. Nothing is an omen—not… Read more →

between the everything that will be forgotten + all that will not I live with my wife in a house big as I wished my fists would get when I was sixteen + my anger a fish I couldn’t catch or count enance, say living’s any -thing other than learning to be the river that doesn’t scream at each littered… Read more →

Was the time I believed a tree the proper home for my lust + hope, not time but era maybe, epoch, spell of years in which I’d at night climb into limbs which overlooked a baseball field I never played on as a kid + wonder what would happen next while the stars mapped the nothingness above. I’d never seen… Read more →