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davie
two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and there between the marked why stood a single tree whose blooming boughs shade upon all three fair paths coolness laid.
davie
i. the red truck jounces on the dirt road- and i, laying in the back, jounce with it. trees hang over us, the red truck and i. they pass us by. how simple, i think... More »
davie
i. the pitcher he worships not the sky, not the spinning bullet of ball, nor the batt. it's the intimacy of wind he craves and carves (whether foul, fly or strike) as eyes trace a... More »
davie
i is a gollum not of oak but of pine. wind waggles branches, births his voice. eyes, burls, turning inward, turning outward, turn. i is a gollum, burning.
davie
a fire lookout tops sandoval mountain. two orbs peer out of an ordinary cabin with an ordinary interior. here, cody sees smoke from afar. he makes a long-distance phone call. "help," he says. and snows... More »
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poetry
