Surrounded as we are, unlit, unshadowed (audio only)
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That Part in the Music
Once loyal to a cruel master,
the dog moves like a man who
not so long ago weighed a lot less
and is still figuring the difference,
what if anything to make of it.
It doesn’t matter, whatever
tenderness she’s known since;
the dog, I mean. They’re called
2024
Western Edge
I need you
the way astonishment,
which is really just
the disruption of routine,
requires routine.
Isn’t there
a shock, though—
a thrill—
to having done
2023
Why So This Quiet
Dog lifts his leg to piss on the bull briar; pisses;
and up from the twists and thorns flies a ghost moth,
two of them, three, moving like an abandoned
but still persuasive, still shifting argument,
until as usual they move how they move, even as
the field’s edge means the edge of the field, not
2022