Poetry
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I gave all my loneliness to the trees
I gave all my loneliness to the trees— barefoot, I held them close.
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The Flute in Buddha’s Hands
I ended up in the wrong place— the kind of gig where your bones don’t sing, they grind.
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Internal Dialogue in the Line for Free Samples of Eternal Life at the Costco
Eternal? Eternal’s too much. How many years do I even use per year? Only one, maybe two.
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Spock, After “A Few” Whiskeys
Under the present conditions, captains’ oak seaboards bounded under standard issue boots like dogs on leash.
