All night I flew the dark recess of God's mind. It was arranged like Iowa fields-- not a damn thing missing. You ask how I survived. I lived on a message, broad light at the end of the world. Words, they have so much in common with departure, the clouds elliptical & nervous. Why translate? It's just a
sign up to receive a new poem-a-day in your inbox
Moved the jackrabbit
from the road, laid her under
a bush. Land of little
shade, we do what we can.
One sport is crying while driving.
Another the daffodil light.
All the mornings I’ve found you,
I’m just eating a sandwich with Sarah,
when the wind picks up, and her hair
crucial, planet. Night running off
with itself. Away
from your star. So soft
is the fur
of the currently—