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Selected Poems

— from “Things My Daughter Pretends” | that she has fairy wings    that she / is seventeen    that she can talk to dogs / in dog language

Kenny

after my mother’s funeral   standing in the receiving line just / below the altar rail shaking hands with people I hardly knew / when Kenny  a face I hadn’t seen in twenty years    appeared and / grabbed me and hugged me so damn hard the wind went out / of me

Pills

One pill / two pills / red pills / blue pills

What Was Astonishing

What was astonishing / was that after a summer of running around the yard / and dragging our rubber dinghy a mile to the lake and rowing / and doing backflips off the dinghy and bicycling around the lake

The Extra Year: Selected Poems

— from “Almost Done” | My wife has taken Pepper to the vet this morning. She is losing her hair, doesn’t like her food, has growths on her skin, moves slowly after eighty-four dog years.

The Middle-Aged Joggers

We gather beside the pond in great ragged flocks, like birds. We run. Knees and backs stiff, we run — along the available routes, the ones before us, the paved and unpaved paths.

Ode To My Kind

Here I am, once again among my kind, / half-moon high outside the window / rowing its light down the empty street, parting / the dark waves of the parking lot, soaking the oak leaves / all the way through.

Climate Change

That the sun would burn out — / even a million years from now — / was the worst news of my childhood.

Rumors Of Our Demise

Poems By Native American Writers

Holy The Body

I’ve thought so little of you that now / you seek your revenge in the grinding / of kneecaps, the tightening of hamstrings, / loss of elasticity, the skin. So long neglected, / you weren’t even an afterthought.