“He’s Venus as a boy,” Björk, I can’t help but agree. Just look at you.  Kiss me to this song; make it our song,  paint it green and pink and yellow and blue.  Your hands are soft...

Paint my fingers with that nine  dollar Canadian nail polish. Paint  my world green as aspens,  green leaching from my fingertips, green  as the moss that grows on my childhood  swingset....

  No one seemed to appreciate the curvature of the whale bones as he did. So, his class left him behind, all alone in the museum, to look at the spiny vertebrae hung from the ceiling as they seemed...

  When I was younger, I was afraid of the woods.  My mother would tell me stories about the monsters that lurked behind every bush, tree, and boulder. My brother worsened my fear by saying...

Shivering in the wind like a young child, with green leaves quaking in the fierce lake breeze; there’s nothing else to do; be oh so wild.   The perfect fairytale clouds, just unstyled, sitting...

You pause and relay the words I told you,  instructions for swordplay with the stars.  Fragile dewdrop roll down the hourglass  nailed tightly on the rooftop near your bed.    The...