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The dugout boats kissing the shoreline have ferried us into open markets. Girl, you call me in time, where this too can be forgotten. The hands that made them asking for more things in dim light.

The social-media world was ablaze with his daughter’s bagunça.

I dug a hole in you; I jumped (here is the church, here is the steeple).

I slipped one sparrow black and shivering into my mouth.

i was a wild thing down by the river, quiet like wild things are.

Before there was air, sublime silence. There was no one not to hear it.

There was only the gulf of our steps, our breathing brittle as string.

It is here I learn the speech of men. The speechless guilt of every swig.

If every present
is possible, how can we have eyes to see?

he has come to write like nervous wasps in my mind like a grocery list.

I must tell you what it is like to be human, or you will drift away.

After almonds after anchovies. After baguettes, a plate of cheese.

Lunatics call it annihilation . . . Think of it as not doing a thing

A plus B; a child in peril, plus love, dissolution of, equals a story.

After my father passed away, I’d go back to stare at the cave paintings.

I build our life together as I want it to be.

Years ago I wanted parallel lives, to see how it turns out for all of me.

They plant whispers where shouts incinerate into hisses.

Through the dark, we say, through the dark: but do we ever really know?

The walls pull apart like a troubled couple, finally deciding to hold.

Who are we? Without one another, who will we be?

Marianne Boruch

How large our muscles have to be to lift our wings even a single time.

Even the busiest of businessmen are out for the count, paying the price.

At Walden Pond, Henry Thoreau clicks like on the “Wilderness” page.

Dainty morsels do not fail to attract gentlemen as well as ladies.

The old hen scratches then looks, scratches then looks. My life.

I turned—a peculiar triumph—as ruin succumbed to the ruin it birthed.

I walked that land with him, one and mingling, breaking into breath.

Out there, my father captains a boat tour below the Cliffs of Moher