Wind out of the South,
The flummoxed drops
Of rain slop and twaurl
About my cheeks and mouth
As stout breath draws
In and out, moist
Life for this lout
This day, rather
Than eventual

Three now dead


Smoking hash from bong

How long we slid down ice-crusted snowy hill

And still I think of your voice

The choices we made, your girl

Or mine. You loved yours better

The letter I wrote to you, the swirl

Of sinking, after you died.


How we rocked in rhythmic afternoons

The boat in river, docked until work

Let out, we drank Genny

And after, you smoked Marlboroughs

Which sank you into turf

Thirty-Three and a third

Years later


And you sweet sister

My guide and protector for twenty

Years, how you sent me songs

That long after your passing

Make tears and smiles rhyme

Four years now, I lift a little glass

In prayer to you, that little tune of yours

Wind through hollow bones

Yankee Foxtrot


Blue-Gray dawn in meadow

Shooting stillness

Shooting silence and snowfall

No birds to speak of

Certainly no eagle

Breath & heart-beat

Shot: dead White Birch

Shot: wisp of tall grass wheat-under-white

Turn about on boot-heel

Crunch back to the lake-side yard

Black legged red-fox

Trotting straight for me

Our eyes