New to the body’s private geometries you and I like two young Newtons wondering under your mother’s Gravenstein drew in the dirt bold lines between us you the better…

  when people start holding hands and looking. Anything so metal would be not a heart, they’re thinking, but we are a heart!, bumpy and ready for love says our…

  In today’s paper they have announced the death of the inventor of the bar-code, a man called Woodland, who drew a line in the sand and saw the future.…

  holly and yew and rhododendron do not like the light manners and flippant quips of the larch and birch we do not welcome your double meanings they say, leaving…

  Along the coast, we lit tobacco fields. We followed a pack of bulldogs. Our private moments, of praying for each other’s bodies, were sought behind billowing tapestries. A barge…

  I cannot understand why she cannot understand why the weight of her body intrudes, and then   Wait, I was saying, what was, right, that, the load of her…

  I’ve got the portable radio tuned to the news, and they’re singing “Battle Hymn of the Republic,” its clotted lyrics sounding as though each singer in the choir made…

  You haven’t spoken to your friends in years. You’ve heard of their occupations. You’ve seen   their family photos. You want to wake up in a salt mine with…

  There is no short supply of quiet in London And all the darkness one could ever need Is there around the fair at Christmastime And nearly snuffs it out.…

  The downy woodpecker’s pointed knocking persistent as on a grandparent's back door is nothing like a hammer drill, head slamming forward and on snapping impact retracting a split moment…

  Less skin than wrapper, less concrete than gauze, the ground crumbles—floats away, cools, gray-brown dust tornados, magnetic, lost in tides. What does it matter? Broken ground folds into plains…

  A gusty wind blows snow from the east, from the north then back from the east. The snow is confused, he says, (beat) sometimes we are too. Where better…