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David Bottoms

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Turning the Double Play

for Doug Fowler In the noon-swelter, dust hanging over the infield like red fog, we stand at the   edge of the grass and watch the ball draw white arcs toward home, the umpire easing back on his heels, a coach behind the backstop second-guessing. I [...]

My Perfect Night

for Bob Hill First a tumble of clouds, muscular and black, full of noise, then a star in a rift, remote as a promise you intended to keep. A moon, of course, or half a moon battering those clouds with metallic light. In my perfect night I hang this [...]

Shelves on the Clark Fork

I know you're restless, the fields are drifting again into waxy shadows, waxy sky. Still, I'm glad you've come to keep me company under these fine stars and red moon, especially here where the river sheds its trees and all down the bank these stones [...]

Hiking Toward Laughing Gull Point

Once I saw a gull catch a line in mid-air. Climbing until the slack ran out, it snapped back like a white feather on the end of a whip and fell into the sea. We've all swallowed a line or two, a real estate deal, some bad investment of faith, o [...]