To the early-bird doe in Astoria the other night who took my seat on the hill by the decrepit house where one can watch the ocean swallow the melting sun, my apologies if I was brusque and abrasive in shooing you off and claiming your spot on the grass. It was still warm. And while I admit it may have been impolite, let’s be clear, you are a deer and you can plop down damn near anywhere. What’s the sunset to you? Do we both savor a delicious view? Is this your go-to spot,...

I’m so damn dizzy. Quiz me what’s up and my mind reels. Feels like I’m a kid outside on a bright day raising a broom with two hands...

I like to write poems in the passenger seat of my car, parked in the shade in a cemetery not far, nary a sound, stories all around, ...