Every slip slender slope of grass, stain glassed with red and white and pink, lifted to the darkening landscape, toasting the encroaching and living planet. We are the children of some phenomenon, tilting away from the sun; soon to cinders, and then on to the harder stuff . . .
how to work magic with weekdays:
1. earn the privilege of white
2. make the meat glisten green
on your plates.
(the book divides “worry” from “and
so on.” the town swims with
bacterial foes.) . . .
THE BICYCLE REVIEW
I worry that love like this is love on loan,
like the lobster baskets fill, but then the sea someday leaves empty . . .
THE ADIRONDACK REVIEW
Eventually the hole closed and the pain began to stop. Not right away, not quickly, but the hole did close. When it did, it left a puckered pale scar—a kind of callous in the tissue of her memory. She could still hear, on the inside, on the other side, something like screaming . . .