The day you leave for a trip on which you’ll drive treacherous mountain roads alone for hours, I rehearse losing you, absurd gesture, useless
At night we shut off the house lights so returning turtles know which way to face the moon, and mornings we find the tide
The winds are ceaseless striking. The tenor of a likeness. The quarrel of the metal on the door mount You must learn to be
Tired of his shadow, a boy tries to be the farthest smallest star, that prick of light unnamed at the tail end of a