When you are as lonely as this, every month smells
of her skin. Choose one, any one—February, August,
like a vending machine, cards in a deck, you can never
come all the way back. The whole damn calen...
the miracle of existence is
how memory is made half
of things misremembered
my father in his childhood
danced the checkered land-
scape of his own intelligence
& anger & to hear him tell it
now you’d ...
Trillions of beautiful things but just one you.
& isn’t that miraculous, the earth giving up
its glory in springtime. Choral & dimpled.
The longest night is passed, meaning will
come again sooner than...