[1995]
And poem looked to me like the eyesight that stayed behind. Claw and wing were the oars of my father’s blank craft. Every boy in Ohio was a girl in a bookstore caring for the latest creature of a flat god. Sadness hadn’t yet moved on from its stick figures and mothers were still blowing into perfectly round balloons. Pale dog drank from a paint can. Color could see, and see only, the future. A pinkness left my brother for the wrong kind of milk. Sister had been hugging those angels couldn't bend their arms. Zero, wizard of the non-event, was buying up land.
[untitled (v)]
I do worry that this love for all things will keep from you the name of the creature dreaming
kingsoftrain 
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