Flung Drops, Fog
Mother married The Farm and hated it.
The marriage.
The Farm.
Eventually she came to understand
that a thing is never
just one thing.
Said
He woke up thinking what he said she said
or was it she said he said
or each didn’t say
the other said
and he said I didn’t say that and she said you did
This Poem
This poem is a dog
that shits all over your house.
This poem is the shit
you find ground in your carpet.
This poem is you
abandoning the dog
on the side of the road
where you found him.
The Bats Are Having Non-Penetrative Sex in a Church
Like Christian kids, hopped up on guilt and hormones, looking for a loophole— the bat’s penis is too
Poems
Fable Telling How Night Invented Herself Out of Sound
nights I was afraid of the moon or spiders or the janitor who was always whistling I’d cross the long
An Act of Sabotage
Because I was young and heretical
(I wanted to be a radical) I spiked
trees to save them. This, I was told,
was the right thing to do: each tree
found with a spike ruins the forest
around it. It wasn’t true, of course.