The old woman in the parking lot

But not before several undisputed stone-cold classics. This is why we

This one got tired

I want to be a passenger in your car again.

She kept its bones in a glass case

On someone else’s estate

Whitman is a foot-long sub

At the mention of Gerard Manley Hopkins, my mild-mannered father

I want

The Eiffel Tower erected itself in my head,

Nature’s first green is gold,

Now I begin to know at last,

Shagged-gold, at rest the great haunches

Here in the decomposed granite

spread out along the olive tree like a drawn bow.

Work out. Ten laps.

Voice escalates in these spare songs

How could I not?

How dare you!

A Deaf Blind poet doesn’t like to read sitting up. A Deaf Blind