Another night of drinking but. And the last time I saw you. Your hair was long and. Kept falling down over one eye. And when I get home. I search for your number. A pile of old Christmas cards. Dialing past three in the morning. When I ask for you.

The Day the Looking Glass Shattered. The Day the Looking Glass Shattered. I discover I can no longer live. With the woman who shares my bed. Lost in an oxycontin fog,. A line of ducks glides by. Submerged in a slick olive coat of Vaseline oil. I close my eyes and attune. To the billowing swell of dark water. With their long arms extended. And their skinny trigger fingers.

Thirteen Sonnets and Some Fire Music. My life, my wife, and Highway 61. When iron-maidened into sonnet form;. The battered heart of Donne;. To watch in safety any kind of storm;. To feel my brain-buoyed spirit rise above. Most often when I plumb their darkness, dear.

At the cellular level? I need a microwave. Or a big yard sale. There are defects in the database. Or fountain grass, nor the silver edged. Iris, nor those fire-colored forget-me-nots,. But the Black Forest lily has become. My confidant, my compass, my map. Of new beginnings, my new amazement. At the stars above her steps, her smile.

We were the first to commit these acts. Each one of us is responsible for our own actions,. Not our parents no matter how abusive or evil,. Not our teachers who may have bullied and insulted,. Not our peers who showed us a code of behavior we knew to be wrong. I was following orders is not an excuse.