It’s evening; the sun is slipping in the colored sky over the mall lot and the stores are closing; shoppers push their last things across the tarmac. It’s your…

  At the clinic, a nurse taps my veins and they find their tiny voices. Blood sweeps into the vial and a chunk of snow slides from my boot. The…

  The power plant howls everyone’s hour, portions labor and myth.   A salsa quintet rehearses on the plaza stage.   The figure on someone’s tablet screen says, we now,…

  This entry is about the U.S. state of Montana. For other uses, see Montana (disambiguation). "Big Sky Country" redirects here. For the song by Chris Whitley, see Big Sky…

  My kidney snarls at the white wand’s wet nose shoving lovingly into my side, taking   the hipbone-path, sliding west, and I still don’t know why   I’m here…

  Whatever it is that holds the chloroform rag to my mouth at midnight and goes out came back   Saturday morning inside my snooze-bar dream as a white fox,…

  There are still the worst minutes of the dream where the dust scatters. Too much light. Too much music. Your body—realized, but unseen—just what an amount of milligrams is…

  Where can you get a decent graven image these days? Disobedience is no longer what it was.   Don’t you have a few thin ones jingling in your pocket…

  After all that, menstruation, parturition, and one unmentionable visit to one of those clinics in Murray Hill in the nineteen nineties,   you doodle on in and do your…

  The old tom sank his claws and tried to leap from the steel counter, but I held his scruff   and nodded to the vet who murmured, For the…

    I slice the air   on Freak Street   into neat squares   of night smoke:   karma, master, nice legs,   vision breath.     The risen…

  The strangest sleep I slept was not beneath willows                  on twigs and brush              and what…