Witherward

All along 
the river
the trees 
are shaking.

The ground breaks
away in measures
and spins off into
the sky.

Now people
are turning
and walking
straight into 
the six hands
of death 
and the Error 
unfolds
its legal
response.

Nothing 
goes 
unnoticed.

Nothing lives 
or dies
that doesn’t 
alter the 
direction of 
this vegetable
universe
or its 
mother.

In the forge
once again
a fiery
world
is wrought.








































































.

Morning

This
winter
light

the deep
orange
changing
to pale
yellow
above
the frozen
canvas
of fields

What
have 
we lost?
















































.

The Map

        

On these nights

when a map 

of writhen branches

appears along 

the fire banked west

and a giant peach

moon rolls

into the black 

sea above 

our wooden houses

I watch 

my daughter’s

shining eyes

just before 

she disappears

I feel the

dark embers 

of my wife’s

exhausted body

and heart

until finally

with daughter 

fast asleep

we sit wrapped 

in our blankets 

of fatigue

holding hands

and listening to

the northern

winds retaking

the prairie.

They descend 

in their long

black coats

and run through

the empty streets

pushing on

the wavy glass

of immigrant windows

and whispering

wintry prayers

to slake our

burning hearts.

.