The poet said, ‘I feel the fell of dark, not day.” but day it always is. Bright! Bright! the city claims its blue salutes; its stopping in mid-sentence at a name where fingers roam a stone.

Sunday morning beginning with a bang. Accused, found wanting, sentenced.

“They say she lives alone out there.” “What, like out in the woods?” “Not like way back in a cabin or anything, but in a little house out there off the road. I'm not even sure she has a car.” “What, does she…

The pristine Hudson's/waters dance in the dark of/the East River's rinse.

I don’t remember much about kindergarten.... The teacher’s name was Mrs. Halverson. She was nice.

Time has wings. They are bright and beautiful, like those of a butterfly. They are delicate wings, and they carry the years away from my decaying mind. I would break those wings if I could, for tomorrow I turn seventy-three, and I grow weary of their ince

You were gone, long gone, and I could no longer smell your scent as I walked through the empty house. I couldn't bring myself to unpack the boxes, and they lurked like a forest of overgrown drab Legos.

Every damned time we came back to Richland County, I told JuneBug to just do whatever she had to do but to leave me and Skeeter out of it. And every goddamned time, we ended up somewhere like this, the two sisters hook-armed and conspiratorial, and Skeete

But I had learned from ingesting Roberto’s glitter-eyed fear, it could make you never close enough, and then, never far enough away. And both at the same time.

Crimson dawn cloaks the starlit night,devoured flesh canvassed fright.Memories flash,as moment’s lapse.Feelings trapped,my love gasped.

“I mean it, Hanna. I don't want you to.” But his leg felt carved away where her head had lain. One stupid thing jostling another for attention. He was afraid that if she touched him again, he'd have her on the ground.

Shadows from a star Never too close Never too far

At street level there is a small arrow on which is printed “Museum of Numbers” that points up a long narrow staircase. There is a restaurant on the first floor. All the way up the stairs, the air is permeated with smell of fried foods

She rolls up at school with the word MAYHEM marker-penned across her stomach, wrote so big the first and last letters graze each inner thigh bone. She says it's in honour of some rock star I never knew.

I could trust that most nights I would drop off to sleep at around midnight and shortly thereafter dream an “us dream”, a how we were dream, a sensing of our bodies undulating, then moving faster, moving with the waves of a special music only we could hear, with…