Love in the Time of PrEP


To see more clearly,

             we climbed the shifting sands

                             of the volcano. We read

in the guidebook that we might

             be haunted if the mist & the light


were just right. Sure enough, . . .

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Invisible Star Maps

For my stepdaughter Kari Harvey (23 December 1982–10 May 2016)

We know that we have passed out of death into life.

—1 John 3:14

Wherever we go we leave a thumbprint of the soul.

Ghosts of words we never said fill the rooms we leave. . . .

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The Failure of My Music

I was cleaning the garage and then

the garage was clean. The voice

from the radio sounded shocked

by another mass shooting

but went on about the government

officials and their take on the violence,

which had nothing to do with pain

but was instead about elections. . . .

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In Praise of My Manicure

Because I was taught all my life to blend in, I want

my fingernails to blend out: like preschoolers


who stomp their rain boots in a parking lot, like coins

who wink at you from the scatter-bottom of a fountain, . . .

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Women Are Doomed to Be the Angels of Love

This is so true I involuntarily doodle hearts everywhere I go. I sign my letters compulsively with hearts,

dream of disobedient hearts, work with hearts. I eat them. I boil sauces and the tomatoes on my cutting board form a daisy chain heart. My foot is a pretty ballet slipper, . . .

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Late Spring


is the most important. Everything else is just an excuse for it.

E.g. weather in medium shot that you take extremely

seriously. Cloud above German city, white, covering

the blue, dispersing into formlessness, gossamer

and dissipating like ancient knowledge. . . .

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Self-Portrait with Braid


In the morning my eyes look thirsty

like a willow leaning toward

its reflection. My mother waits


inside the circles. One day

I will remember her at her last age

and see her peering from the windows

  . . .

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Good-bye to Golden Nights


If measuring

one’s life as circular

makes sense of movement,

how should we muscle

meaning into days?

As if we end up

where we’ve dreamt,

starlight for eyes

and train static

within the folds

of memory. . . .

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