we live at the edge of time/ there is no time beyond us/ except what we make/ our transient

If I stop, I’ll fall asleep: this is the secret / to adulthood nobody tells us. So much / of life is about

The salmon dying in the woods stopped him. / And the blackened fruit of it on the mudbank / beside

When did it first happen? / Surely if we had known in time, / we would have woven / the garden flowers

The bird/ With unprobed rock specks in its beak/ Has blue eyes, blue horizons, blue thirst.

Swiftest things that run the world,/ Hums and beats, their wings unfurled./ Hummingbirds need

As I leaned / against the lamp post / watching her window, / I thought about all the ways we were closed off

he was like a tree / tall and distant from me / clothed in roughness // like a juniper / with a cactus growing

We go back to the pond/ And still he is there,// Standing on the jagged stonesSurrounding the edge of the

A front porch offers an artist’s view / of Canada geese. // The geese return every year, unannounced

Constellated droplets / cling to a slender gum leaf. / Time stands for their togetherness / a moment only

waking / early // above / the mountain / cold // morning / star

Snails have infested my garden. / They are preparing for the winter storms / By suckling dandelion

Grey clouds swift on an unfelt wind / stained by the fuchsia-gold light / of the sun resting beyond the sierra

Did Eumolpus cry, his infantile / lungs constricted by the icy / waters when his mother flung him

Some say autumn’s not/ the season of dying/ but rather of life renewing—/ to be honest, I just

It’s not the swallow’s fault your head hurts / Nature finds its payback in the / Eaves and framework of

I wait all year to see blossoms on the cherry tree below my window. They begin as small green buds in

A compass is a rose is a flower./ Bees are dying, but so are people.// The more I live, the less I know

It changed/ slowly at/ first,a scratch,/ a crumble,// thenchipped stone/ fell. Thenrot grew/ darker. Then