sister: on these points the biographers agree.
and banished Christmas from the house.
been capable of washing anything clean.
where he dropped them not an hour ago.
but I no longer know in whose behalf.
and soaked the frame in Coca-Cola overnight.
really mattered enough to last.
bright stripes on chairs in the sun, bottles of white on the ledge.
a child he knows is only the vaguest kind of hope.
segment of scallion tossed in the rock pool.
in the chill and registers the loon out of view.
Is it someone else rising up in us who fears?
of white hair on water, sweetly comic.
rings against the dock, and the outboard fires up in the dark.