Lightning Won’t

Strike twice on
the same stage
in the same
heart to doom
the same

life all over

again. She only thinks
she recognizes
that dose
of thunder
as his.

Eccentric or Concentric

The trigger
point may be
centimeters (or miles)
lower than he thinks. It may

be so much
higher, so much
in your head.

From Seed to Glass

Prairie vodka—a beverage
I will never taste. Made in Minnesota.
Property tax—a phrase
I’ll never utter

in Minnesota
or anywhere else. Show tune—
a collection of verses
I will never

memorize. I see rhinoceros—
a warping I will never stop
laughing over.

Organic drunk—
an oxymoron I still remember
how to translate.

Traveling Lighter in Increments

A cold spell snaps
into the first

heat wave
of the season. Which season?

An approach
by air

rather than
by sea

could open
those island gates

she has been eyeing
for as long

as she has been walking
without a crutch.

200 Days (or Spirit Varnish)

All the world’s
an ice rink
this morning before

the sun (no one can see
through freezing rain
and fear) fully rises. Where

did it go
when these bones began
to break and drop

to the lacquered
ground? Whose bones
will replace those
missing from this new silence?

Wind Chill Civil Dawn

Beautiful to watch
from a well-sealed
window. Nothing

gets taken
for granted. Feels like

a drop
in ambient thought.
The essential reveals

itself against a pale blue
cloudless sky. Another day

where hope just might burst
through burns awake
to break convection’s hold.