The flush of leaving’s what we notice most— thus, the white glint of a steeple on the ridge across the river under a sky
Why is February this way? I wonder to no one, to the memory of my mother, my car pushing through low morning fog. February
In the beginning was sea salt in the Fertile Crescent, was arsenic salt, sulfur, mercury, was Sinox, which begat Accent, Scythe, Bullet, begat Niagara,
the son of a cousin hears how I am learning Greek words like a baby one at a time he is twelve I am