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What exists in the shadow of a thingThat casts no light? I wonder if it’s GodOn the other side collecting data fallenPast the horizon. Lonely in the centerOf the Milky Way, the ultimate introvert,What does It know of us? If we are madeOf stardust, do we collapse into ourselvesOn death, our souls an absolute density? …

A field with a lonely baseis a fish. If you want to betraditional, start a fire.My grandfather fell in lovelearning Chinese. He askedhis teacher out to the museum.An abundance. A cow in the middlethat is or is not a thing. The courtyardthat shifts to an ending. A gallery.My girlfriend and I went out alsoto the …

Mangoes ripening in a wicker basket—tough and green, you could skin themand eat them with salt. In the oven,the softening flesh of salmon,waiting to be pulled out and servedwith yellow grits and butter. My motherwas away when two visitors came knocking. What I can describe is the powder-bluechalk-outlined hopscotch box, beginningwith your first step off …

Naming is an act of caring—Martha, Toughie,Celia the Pyrenean ibex who died twice.I take 齐 for myself. To what end?Terminarchs have no say. Why don’t you want children?Because because becausebecause Sudan died lonely in his rarityand I turned twenty-eight. Becauseto be rare is to be alone. A family’s branch can start or end anywhere.I turn …

When I was a child,my fire burned black after dark.What is not seencan never be put out. I never asked,What about me? I would ponder the smallness of sparrows,too many of which I found dead or dying in the pond—floating on its algae-mirror like rufous pads of lily—their gray bibs hanging open, darkening in water,their …

I didn’t play footballfor the coach.I played soccerthough my fathercoached football.He was a linebackerin high school.He inspired fearin straight dudes.I stood up straightwhen he entered a room,and many times under his gazeI wanted to die.When I was a young manin high school,I wanted to find my soul.My father the coachhad a straight shadow.I was a …

The train curved around the mountains of West Virginia, and my father said to look out the window. He pointed to our right, and I saw the engine. Then he pointed to his left, and I saw the red caboose. “We’re one big circle,” he said. “I don’t know if we’re coming or going. If …

(To use the PDF embedder to see all pages of the poem, use the arrows on the bottom left-hand side.) Text: Can I please be added to this group? I’m looking to relocate Ten Bristlebirds. I’d like a disorienting trip through dark wonder. Because of the orcas / because of the snowmelt / the gnawing …

1 Pears fall to the yard, green bombs hitting green earth with a thud. Under the pear tree I read, journal, dance. I pet my calico cat, Rosie, and wave nets in the air attempting to catch butterflies. Down the hill from the pear tree are black raspberry bushes, empty of leaves and color in …

Winner of the 2024 Robert and Adele Schiff Award in fiction At night I kept my Jesus folded small in the corner of my closet, arms under tucked knees, dark mangled locks beneath the cotton dangle of buttoned shirts I didn’t wear. That’s where I charged him too. Anywhere out in my room would have …