This morning the world tried its best to tuck me back in.

. . . there's no doubt about it, it's pure naiad scorn.

We consume what we must, to make it up. In this neighborhood, tact never stood a chance.

My father walks through the scrub, a shortcut, to get to Walmart where he meets up with his friends for coffee on Friday afternoons.

At the dissertation defense, the psychology grad student is saying that oxytocin is essential to feelings of social affiliation . . .

Or the word for immanence, which I am told is called looking at trees I know because the kid secretly circles in her book

This place is very serious.  A lock like that is symbol of seriousness, don’t you think? Grown up serious.

Yesterday, I did not open the dragon boat race . . .

I have a dream in which I am staring at the dead branches . . .