dream a flock of starlings between / my legs. Are you the shifting mass / or am I?

In life goes, / and out, air to the chest’s throne. / Her ribs shape not a cage but a fence.

Picks from the office.

In you, the autumn's knowing ardor holds / The gold and amber lying at its root.

I have felt / her fist / stay strong / in my ribs, / known it / was love

clues I can be what you need / me to be: water-rich, able / to sustain your breathing.

An excerpt from the monograph.

Picks from the office.

Tell him how sails resemble angel wings, / but show him the danger of sailing

She is fertile with water. She is ripe with god and sea oats.

“You an artist?” he asked me.

how he came to be oppressed or granted / free range as if dominion wasn't his to begin with

morning is ripe with new springs popping / down the mountainside, streaking it with thaw.

Weekly picks from the office.

Perhaps you have to have the right kind of thirst / to keep yourself inside your body.