August 27, 2014

A fox follows you
till fear makes you
sprint to lameness. A swim
in the ocean

in your dress awakens
your hidden desire
to be out

of control again. Your hair
may smell of seaweed
and salt mixed
with grief

for your father—some called
Running Fox—now dead
two years. But the air

you breathe
in this moment
brushes the Atlantic Ocean
across all surfaces—your face.

More Delicious

Where does the pain go
when she stops
feeling it? When
it is no longer

masked by
drugs or delusion. When
the physical becomes
emotional becomes

psychological dares
to become
spiritual. Couldn’t it
just be?


Pain is
a messenger
she would like

to shoot
if she had
a gun. If

she believed
in that sort
of thing. If

she had
better aim. If
she wasn’t

sometimes in
love with it—him.

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.


She responds more slowly, moves
more deliberately
as if her body has made a choice:

To be less
impulsive, more
responsible to the overall balance

of energy
in the world. To be still
long enough to receive

satellite signals
that will navigate her

to hidden trails
maintained by those
who are too soon gone.