My buck-toothed & aching father would laugh at things he didn’t understand. Aaron had a star & crescent moon beneath his eye & he’d lie down at the barber shop. Red used his hand for a razor strop, & long leather hanging down gave a laugh to the other men & they watched Aaron. I
She spent the rosefish hour being new, & lay across my mouth & whistled to stars that fluttered across the gingertops. She was conjured by the fragrance of heat & sliced peaches. It was in late July when the cicadas mutter in the tops of rosaceous trees & the naked sky looms like a
In November darkness, the closed stars shine like yes in a crowded room. We assign some type of feeling to events like these. We want, & tremble like your mother’s knees after hours spent behind some foolish contemplation. We love the things we wish for, & love the things that we’ve forgotten. We line up
