In Shanghai

I’d walk home and walk

over those sleeping in
the streets, looking in

at the dentist office
where—swear to God—

a woman slept in a dentist
chair. And then a massage

parlor where I could see
people sleeping on all

of the massage tables. Continue reading


You said more than you meant to on the edge of Salt Lake City,
where the one-eyed woman panhandled outside our room
and shell casings littered the Salt Flats. You let a lizard run
circles through your fingers. I had never seen someone pick up
the desert. I had never heard distant gunfire. Continue reading


My boots slip on the ice and I struggle to stay standing
and think, “This? Is this how I die? On a sidewalk
some idiot neighbor forgot to shovel, taking the dog out for a walk?”
Continue reading

With My Daughter

Crows and starlings scatter at the shotgun crack of the ice
shifting and splintering into blue-gray shards.
There is water running in the falls again, a thin trickle
moving beneath the snow
just enough to break through thoughts of winter. Continue reading