Poetry

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 …

(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 …

Who is your ideal reader? a lit mag asked,and after careful thought, I decidedit’s Daniel Craig, circa 2006,deliberately emerging from the seain his little blue shorts, flinging waterfrom his hair, swaggering through the wavesand onto the beach, white sand clingingto his bare feet and somehow muscular ankles,striding to the chaise longue beside mine,and opening a …

Pelvic bones are nothing like wingsor blades. I know because I saw them in a meadowat Mount Diablo. They must have come from a mother cow,birth canal a wide hollow. I touchedthe wild rye that pulsed inside.*Once, in the desert, my motherand I argued about the shape of the earthuntil I wept. Wind chimes jangled …

A rugged coyote wandered close by the oceanside communities. Tired, it sat beneath a palm tree and took a nap. It dreamed of its former life as a medieval dragon. It had conquered many rustic lands as a fierce dragon. Now, the lonesome coyote hardly ever sang anymore. Most of the city slickers didn’t realize …

Outside, the swarm. The dog found it first,ran crying, and now we’re both wearing balaclavasin July. You in mittens, two sweatshirts, some Oakleysfrom God knows where, hands up against the sliding glass.After the poison, the exterminator, still the waspsevery morning. The dog’s face swollen now like a football.In their nest they sleep well, we think. …