What If I Cautioned You
Can I tell you about my family’s farm?
We stood together under a HUGE tent,
a bit longer than usual.
Poets Respond
That’s My Dad
Ours was often a wordless language,
Whole conversations shared in the space
Between the hook flying from the rod,
To the splashdown in the water …
Ghazal 28 (‘like this’)
Only grass is hurt when two bulls lock horns like this.
Even the sun was ashamed. Were we born like this?
Why Wouldn’t Autonomous Cars Cry at Night?
Awake and acutely aware
of each other’s proximity
to streetlights and the shifting
shapes of moons on their own
empty interiors, with enough
of them huddled in the lots,
why not honk?
Hard Labor
A chrysanthemum petal makes me think of a swapped prisoner. What was given up for this beauty pressing against the
Paragon
To eat sweet corn straight off
the cob, just shucked—
no one ever told me I could do that, like
no one ever.