Dick names his land Jane. hi, Jane!
we can assume this means Dick owns Jane.
What’s the box for? we asked.
It brings jobs and opportunity, said the man.
Our mayor liked the sound of that.
We all cared because it was inescapable news and the air felt stuffy and smelled like a bonfire.
Read MoreIn the new heat, plant resin
clings to folds among stems, but these bees forage
trash.
Easy money, this business. We pay for everything in handfuls of shells.
Read MorePlum trees realize the wind
w/ hot courtyard splats
hungry yellowjackets plow
mouthparts into.
glide under the mass I’ve built give you all the water you could ever drink
Read MoreChildren are not allowed to participate. They are not allowed to listen or watch. The grown-ups write their secrets, their shame, their regrets, on scraps of torn paper, fold and seal them with wax, and place them in their jars. At dusk, they whisper the words into the jars, screw the lids on tight, and bury them beneath their porches, gardens, mailboxes, and windowsills. The earth, they believe, absorbs their guilt. Only then are they brought rain. Only then do their crops bloom.
Read MoreBoxwood has long been used for chess pieces and yard sticks, combs and woodwind instruments. Bagpipes and tuning pegs. And often, it was the wood carved for wood blocks, used to illustrate early books printed with movable type. And so, the etymology. The writing desk, the writing box. Small tablets or surfaces made of hardwood, fine for writing. Early boxes were made of boxwood, built to endure and protect. Suitable for use and re-use.
Read More1998
Hear, on the cusp of second millennium
sonic drone of endless septendecim
mating in the trees; this is their moment—
brood color-cast in standard screen ratio,
Kansas brood, pride of the Midwest—hear them
from the comfort of your mother’s full womb.