I have no complaints. The sockeye fish hurries up river, but human hearts rest in nocturnal bliss. What scavenges the weak, the herb,
At day’s end, I tucked her snug Cocooned against late autumn’s night, Coaxed her gently to bed’s center So she would not fall.
— they never — close their eyes — passed on roadsides stained or clean fresh or spoiled bones broken twisted all akimbo
The rain falls like confederates, gray and heavy. The rain falls until the night is a lake and the bridge is a gray halo