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Friday, April 7, 2017


Are we contributing to a larger problem

We learn to keep learning

I know a guy who never says his own name

It’s always sort of tornado-y even when it’s not in Wyoming

Along windmill valley do you take it as it comes or are you a planner

We had to go to bed early to fight something off

We are the kids of the class

Children of the house

Our father’s child our mother’s babies

We are sitting in small chairs made for small creatures

Rose petals, small green pieces of plastic, little animals, a cut on the head

Private school, recruitment, evaluations

Are we in trouble what we’re doing

We have three days to get somewhere very far away

The worst case of never enough

Your eyes are easy fulfillments

Walk in the street to avoid melting icicles

Take your mail only to Vatican City

A flaw of whiteness is a supposed nostalgia

that I try to rake out of myself

I wanted my classroom to be a free place

Can I be a grown-up who forgives my own flaws

On the stool in the kitchen forty-five conversations with a hungry person

Faith is good for the feeling

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