these clouds are water, not smoke.

I hear the swoop of wings beating the soft air

I keep looking at what isn't there.

I study lost saints

They are not happy

We adopted a dog. Molly.

Salute, raise your arms, swoon

You dream of snow that tastes like cream.

one mass silhouette

A dream pushes through the swaying shadows

my love songs undulate like the abandoned strands of kelp

Once, before you were born, / I ran from him down the street

we can talk about / pain all you want

My youngest sister’s dying first.

The old ladies march

I stood in a field of meadowfoam 

Mother, father, forgive me, for I have sinned.

I re-rewind the precious tape 

and read again the note she slipped me

Mr. Dog says he has a very important job

I’m sure there was wine, plum slices, sauce pitchers—