Ballad of the She, at Bad Lilies
Polaroid, at Times Literary Supplement
Warriors, at Punk Noir Magazine
Notes from a Moon Station, at Poetry Film Live
Things, at Poetry Foundation
The Elements, at Poetry Foundation
Testament, at Poetry Foundation
Springfield, Virginia, at Poem of the Day
My muse walked up from the creek,
taller than a man in the speckled shade.
Crayfish imitated tiny stones,
and the brisk water played.
Reckon she was a muse, being so
ringletty and fair, with a child’s eye.
In her headdress, bitter living grapes
nest in the wild vine.
We walked up from the bottom fields,
apart by arms’ length.
She talked low, reproachful, pretty:
said I don’t love her enough.
from Sunset Grill (1993)