Moving Galleries

first frost --
the kindling takes
with a hiss

The wind rhymes with the sound of their pants

brushing against their legs. The music must shift

to a higher register, whenever the diesel trains roar. ...

Do my ears look big in this?
You’d tell me if they did,
Right?
Cause my forearm clashes with my pants. ...

I’m listening to Hurt, which Johnny Cash
now sings: the needle’s in his voice, a ghost
lends him its wings, and even with the clash ...

Outside the Library,
the pigeons do to Redmond Barry
what Ned Kelly never could.

After twighlight,

At her desk,

She ponders the implications of signing in crayon..