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from long life hotel

i learned to save lives from a man who reminded me of my father

From One with Days

This was his sky, his clouds rucked up over the fields. His country.

From Rising, Falling, Hovering

We cannot leave it to the forces to rub out the color of the world.

From Take Me to Stavanger

Into the storm, the iridescent cosmos. To the savage dances of sunset.

From Trading Riffs to Slay Monsters

How do we heal our savage hearts, foolish wrath gone rogue on any soul.

From Winter’s Apprentice

A ripple across the darker fathom, no sooner there than torn away.

From “All the Great Territories”

You try to confess your crime of turning the world into words.

From “Doppler Elegies”

Why am I always asleep in your poems? Look at me Ben, when am I.

From “The Last Will and Testament of the Orphelines”

Our cocoa is gone and our dreams are being eaten by mice.

From “The Low Passions”

There’s no need to check for a pulse, hold a hand mirror for breath.

Fumbling through the Heart of Music

Fumbling among the constellations, I believed my throat would burst.

Galileo after the Trial

I feel as if I have been struck from the book of the living.

Gamble

I think there was a center about which I never even thought to ask.

Gargantuan

My childhood is a city where tenderness was frowned upon.

Gaudeamus Igitur

The sloshed grownups had little to say to me. I loved it that I was alien.

Ghazals for the Body

What I want is a woman who knows all the meanings of indulgence.

Ghost Apples

His voice was wrung with panic as he spit curses like spoiled milk.

Gifts of Writing and Teaching

When I walked in, the kids applauded. They were like, “The poet’s back!”

Girl Friend

Such longings: Errant. Verdant. To have a good time. And dream.

Girl from the Moon

Unnatural as a ghost; the thought rose unbidden to his mind.

God’s Plan

The toes you step on today may be attached to the ass you kiss tomorrow.

Granddaughters

Our grandmothers were bakers and nurses, spies and traitors.

Grave Clothes

I wonder why I feel bound to the gray-dry skin of you, the barrenness of feet.

Great Falls

Walking on Canal Street, I slipped on the curb and fell on my face.

Great Plains

All of those feelings—you do not have them, they have you.

Grief

Guest of the Lacuna

A family becomes fossilized—a darker crosshatch etched in hard sand.

Hands

The story of Wing Biddlebaum’s hands is worth a book in itself.

Handsome Jack and the Senator

He shot a spear into a boom timber and pulled the boat to it.

Handwash

The canary-yellow sweater she knit while pregnant with me thawed first.