Low points marked by little orange signs Saying Flooded before and after they are.

I meant to wake up and had or had not
To the lines from an ordinary song
I saw my problem as that line

So that nowhere home is

Still ever on the way.

 

The past of having makes the present
Bleed and then we’re asked to
Forget it like imagined slights

I have to tell my mother the night

is a house in which are no knives.
The heavens grow hell blue

How distant
this hard bright terrain
that separates us

Nobody blamed her. When a god comes down
What can a poor girl do—for who can block 
His will? She never had a chance to think 

Another night of lunacy!
Another full and drunken moon
And I the dwarf and she the bear

Could I begin by asking what you were thinking of as the gun-
man approached?

 

 

 

Could they not have turned over
or taken more care
or left me as I was