Poet Laundry

  You were fishing for me—   sliding your hand along my dorsal and tail fins,   my dark olive hair, my golden throat.   ...

  The ship with orange sails stands out among the rest.   Perhaps whoever chose them wanted them to match their destination—   ...

    By most accounts he was a “mean cuss.” But I mostly remember his bald head, plaid shirts, and brown cigarettes filling up the tr...