A stone in the lake old as water. Older than any question. Older than dirt and more stubborn. Round.

Fish fry in Benoit. Joyce brings a hundred dollars in cod and beer almost right to your mouth and you wonder if it’s

jump in the truck, and disappear in moments measured in rust, that flakes off in the friction of…

the best strawberry is the smallest, not-in-the-garden strawberry that grows between and beneath the grass and tallgrass

we held the dream between our holding hands. we held our hands in the warmth of my coat pocket

After close, the image loosens until it is just being held together.

Truck sounds like metal on metal– grinding coughing hard–

the still rising sun calls to you to rise; early morning dawn light brings you to a particular log and leaves you there,

before you go, things left undone. loose ends, too many to tie so quickly.

the Aurora roared above us and in sweeping, arcing curves mimicked the path of the luge.

everyone sees the red-torn deer ca… the mess made dragging her to be shouldered, everyone gawks and shifts the weight of

refreshing to know there’s still n… that’s unsure of its footing. love that’s unsure of what to do a… standing in the truck head-light g… feeling small

like the name says, we were there together. and it wasn’t long before we had built a fire and stargazing became staring down

something feels as though it is at unease because it has not settled.

when you get started and you don’t… start digging slowly and softly, move things around. i turned over a rock