Slow drink from abandoned well.
It's not the last remaining bird.
This is the final day of years of sweetness (Petrach 314).
Considering the demise of everything.
Though the garden is stockpiling beetles.
Calling the whiskey Roses.
The use of sorrow to overcome sorrow.
Some of the lesser-known noble truths.
We dedicate this practice .
While constellations dozed.
Poem written in dashboard dust.
When I don't know what kind of bird I am.
That which is in us rises to be sung to.
Watch set to a time zone other than home.
A short history of regret.
Early lessons in cause and effect.
I write a lot of letters in my head.
Lying on a hill under the stars.
Every day a deep drink from a hollow gourd.
Dispoatch from the flood.
Garrulous as a crow but much larger.
Poem with an unknown number of wings.
Brief interlude with bees.
So much potentially lost in transmission.
Field notes from a state of well-being.
Counting the immeasurables.
A small glitch at the end of a bloodline.
Letter written in this life, mailed from the next.
When you realize there's no going back.
4th of July, girl jumping from abandoned railroad bridge.
Driving home from the Zendo.
Watching you leave in a hailstorm.
Poem with a shaft of light running through it.
Absinthe makes the heart.
On being asked to imagine the worl's last lark.
Dear asteroid, dear beehive.
