In those days when I was the academy’s darling I borrowed phrases and made no claims, digressed gracefully from every absent thesis
We watched a movie aboutan orchestral conductor, a powerful woman who groomed young musicians. I didn’t understand the ending. Driving to the beach, it began to rain.
In the end the world is empty enough to move in —to learn how best to hold a lantern drunk in the forestdark—
Between Los Angeles and Oakland, there was snow on the grass-covered mountains,which made a strange pattern, like brushstrokeson paper.
At just the age the unconsciouscheerleader was []by four football players,I suspect I was []by Steve.
She’d gathered ramps in the woods, although she found them A hyperbole of the food world, an over-priced scallion
With a finish of garlic scapes. But finding them in the forest, He thought, and picking them with her strong hands,
Steve, though he’d cut youif you crossed him, drop you like a sackof potatoes if you came at him drunklike Randy Parr in the backyard,
Pink Floyd’s Animalsdrones through a thindreamless sleep I keep
each day you wake wishing that what is, is not, and that’s no way to live.
the owl refuses to dispense any wisdombut has a few questions of its own: