Explore

Long and black, almost thick, the night comes to drape my shoulders.

It was a Hmong villager who roped you with dogs on the chase.

we are saying thank you in doorways and in the backs of cars

I have seen your ocean. I have heard your waves beside my bed.

The trees were a sign from the devil, a warning of the terror to come.

Draw me a map of your agonies, all the missing rivers you dried.

It was cool and dark, azalea in bloom at the edge of the forest.

This itchy voice, this desperate chant, that begs: okay. Okay.

Pinned to the wall, it looks uncannily its own language, trick of the camera.

Merwin discovered and restored eighteen acres of abandoned land.

This storm scares me. A foreign climate occupies the land.

This morning I watched two elephants dance the boogie-woogie.

The first time the world demanded more of me, I was twenty-nine.

In the backyard I submerge myself in a bathtub of soil, soak with the hose.

Grasshoppers tumble from the reeds, snapping like electricity.

All the bears in the zoo look pathetic. Their eyes glazed, bodies lethargic.

My own hunger was for a reduction in the vast space between people.

My own hunger was for a reduction in the vast space between people.

These natives have the smiles we haven’t seen since we were children.

She only eats condiments, pickles, slices of sharp cheddar.

Chase Twichell

I am subject to you in the way the water is subject to the moon.

“You know what they say about
free health care. It costs money.”

Get all of it. Set up the shots. Get beautiful stuff and get the ugliness.

We pull up alongside the great body. The fin marks the spot.

We are good at thinking we can stay. We are good at finding hurt.

Re: murdering democracy, oiling the shore, shearing the rain forest.

I had forgotten how to breathe, and then I learned again, all at once.

Lydda, when she closes her eyes, has traded one war zone for another.

Make It Big, all return and rhythm, a groove that plays to the center.