Not a day goes by he doesn’t
subtract years from his imagined
date of death. What can he get done
in thirty years? In twenty? In ten?
Pile of rolled-up once-white socks.
Underwear, various colors, inside out,
brown stain–too much information.
They muddied the kitchen floor.
It’s wind that’s cooled us down, finally,
weeks of waxing, throbbing heat
brushed aside,
blue spruce shivering in the breezes.
Medicine goes only so far.
They stood up for country–
unbelievable terror of roadside shrapnel–
but no one can put their lives together again.
Ordinance setting sidewalk café rules to be discussed Monday
Same-sex couples see new Washington law as a step in the right direction
Medical ed program gives rural areas a boost
Martin Stadium renovation should be ready for season
Wind and sand, long-stripped skull.
A boy, his ice cream, and a dog.
Neighbor’s cat rubbing the inside corner.
Wind, sand, water, unrecoverable metacarpal.
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