He moved across the forest They moved across the forest It moved across the forest moved across the forest elephantly. across the forest...

I'm looking for the medicine, love. Haven't you seen it here? The fronds quiver and the sun whispers. But I'm looking for the medicine;...

that beauty shadows on the grass moon; hand; dance come alive, remember you, remembered reborn, we cannot sleep dreams have no answer but...

The sun someday will be love again. The mountain someday will be sand. The land in the end will begin again, and flowers grow out of its...

We listened and we heard in the space between us, a small garden with many new things: curving meridians and underworlds and iridescent...

There are moments I remember that even the schools of crickets are multitudinous, and that waiting for the rain makes the sun too bright....

Conversations with Jesus on the front porch. So many worries. That's true, he says. Everything moving by things I can't see. But perhaps,...

I haven’t asked him for his number because now I am known, now the I-I-I am afraid, now I am up there on the raggedy cross with Christ:...

We’re not always looking for an ancient cadence. Sometimes the many-pistoned hum is enough. The beginning and end of every journey: our...

In the end, I suppose the better question is: how does the ocean feel about us?

I emerged from my door and carried into my present moment the quivering skeleton of a whom this poem is for, a what is trying to be...

On the front porch of my sister’s District rowhome September reds breach the green like an early monsoon, a wave of the knowledge of...

The only sin is not knowing the bigger picture, and even then it’s nothing new: No one stopped the strangling fig. No one rescued Job....

Faith: is when you can't remember what it is you have forgotten, but you know that it is good. Humiliation begets humility begets wisdom...

How to love a long-living green, a resting place at rest. How to love a family filled with sediment and wormholes — How to love a lover...

The littlest games the ego plays: what a marvelous match. And what but underbrush could burn and burn away the burdens on your back?...

I watch the shadows of the morning conjoin the flat white globe of noon, I watch the swallows’ silhouette weave holy wakes above the...

Assurance settles as morning mist, the exhalation of the warming earth, the churning dirt, an ungraspable above the ground. And the...

our men are never finished our women only begin our sunset women, our people of the dusk our sadder but wiser women and all folk who...

I am a cross-section of the Living God the Samawati starling that’s me more like a vessel of water overlapping on itself Samawati...