From Quotidian


The kettle doesn’t hold
Enough for us both

In the morning   
I boil just enough

For myself

A stray grain burning
Into ash


At the café, I brush away
Another fly

My husband tears a dollar bill to pieces

This is
How things happen 

Keep happening

This is how things keep


He said   I said   He said
He moved into the sun to sneeze

I cleaned the windows
From the inside

The dogs also


The other side of the fence is
Elsewhere   Come back 

Wading into a low muddy stream
A fawn leapt onto the path 

In front just like that
Froth on her mouth

Sun’s out on a cold day  
The park, bereft of/free of

& she & me alone in it


Small between trees
We run on

Uneven ground
Shrubs scrape my shins

Torso bare in the heat
Thud of planks, suspended

My dog, unleashed
Is briefly



I nearly stepped on a bird   
It flew upward 

& away
White rustle 

Behind me
A pick-up truck brakes 

Our neighbor’s walking his dog again
Come on, Milo

Come on


The grass in our yard
So wet mornings

It’s as if it rained
In the last dark 

Isn’t real 

It’s an imposter
& grows much faster


The basil on the table
Pungent when watered  

Onion smell on my fingers
Won’t wash away 

A wind
Scratch of leaves 

I wake up tired
I keep dreaming of her  

A paw against my calf
Our first child 


The cover of the book he’s left on the marble table
Geography of Nowhere

Curls back to its spine
In the moisture 

Brown moth trapped
In a small paper lantern

A velvet knocking