A Few Theories on Starlings and Dandelions The dead spill and drift into the mold-blackearth tugging on the curtain of loss as the wind stirs their ash-dust into a fistthat unclenches like a dandelion letting go of its seeds. I have a theory about seeds,loss and the small birds I’ve introduced to live off both.…

imagine drowning, orthe desert’s thirsty ground.The Penelopes of history, every Aegeusthrowing a stone down an empty well.The whole idea of fishing. The fact of glue and tape.Any of these will do.A mirror. A beetle. Godor whatever’s out there kicking its small legs.Or a three-year-old trying to sit still for a lifetime of five minutes.That work.…

Mourning the Lost You know your former self like a tooth spinningin its own blood; its clawlike root is another weapon you’ve lost. You press the cold bullet back into your jawlineas if it were a missing dance step or a mask you use to hide yourself in the dark. It nestles in the socket…

Diptych Take the Gypsy jetty off the last pier to arrivein the Citizens Square, the banners of a Revolution flapping wind-blown Kosovoabove a fake blind girl selling trinkets her heavy nearly unseen laborshawled black shawled where did she go when she packed upher cart, her brother who I saw sit down & transform into a…