In your body the alcohol poured
or your eyes broke apart
quiet poems they saw.

When she would decompose the shrubbery
Leave the trees alone or lose herself around pools

In the evening
haze darkening on the hills,
purple

Rain putters down on the wood shingles overhead,
now smattering heavily, becoming
a language I think I will learn one day

Possibly a child is not damaged immediately
but only after some time has passed.
When the parent who sits on the edge

Through a dark winter 
In a cold chambre de bonne 
I lay still and dreamt

We walk across the snow,
The stars can be faint,
The moon can be eating itself out,

a few feet about the sunken green bank
where a man used to sit and think

the flock shifts weight like a snowplowing skier
and turns, and yahonks and spirit-cries
toward that flow of light spelled into its windings

A tiny creature moves
through the tide pool, holding up
its little fortress foretelling