They were the family Hard. We laughed at that. They’re all Hard! Junior high was unforgiving.
Nobody calls on the dead
Shared course: the rivers and the streams
They often leave me dulled/ and wanting back my time.
The news just now that you are dead
the last frost of spring. Replant
the burning thrusts/ of yellow in defiance of the frost
The brown grackle chirps/ as she chomps a plump cricket-/ melodious meal.