"Little girls in white dresses skipping rope / & chanting singsong in slow motion we stole / from an 80’s horror film."
"I drove Pacific Northwest November numb / through trees like tall green drifts to the ocean / seething with chaos."
”I’m dazzled by headlights / while flaming forest fire sits / smug on my couch under my roof / smoking up his coming out to me / like its air itself. He told me over the phone. / He’s here now. I pull from the breast / pocket of my work shirt a folded list / of questions I wrote.”
"The thing crafted from fabric and plaster, / more pile of dirt and wet cardboard / than realistic human skeleton, lies / under glass in a white cinderblock / coffin elevated over the concrete floor / in the last of three corrugated steel sheds / at the roadside attraction."