If notions of love                are shaped by how our parents                loved, or tried, will I be blessed?    Or doomed? Never expecting                a penthouse at the epicenter               […]

One day I woke up & my grandmother was in the kitchen frying the cricket in a peppered pan & I thought it was better that way, for the cricket to be swallowed & carried inside a body so that it would never know lonely.

He said once: the moon is a man who will marry you someday. At the bay, my wife calls to me in a language he never knew. Her mouth around my name: the moon.

watch branches swing in a sudden gust and watch the
leaves rip free, hang on air itself: an estranged fruit.

in time stillness becomes / both theory and myth

but current scientific understanding suggests that an unthinkable number of years from now, the universe will come to an end.