Forrest Gander Poems

My husband did all this.We used to live
in a rambling kind of house with gossipy verandas.
Then he bought a stove, an iron stovewith a reservoir to it.
He always insisted it was bad luckto come in that door
...

This high up, the face
eroding; the red cedar slopes
...

Could have been
otherwise and
...

Through my torso, the smooth
diffusion of aguas ardientes. Another
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Summer's sweet theatrum! The boy lunges through
The kitchen without comment, slams the door. An
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Good morning kiss. Their teeth glance. Clack of June
bugs against pane. On the porch a young man
...

Me, when I think of you I see
Alley cats in your kitchen,
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Inside, inside the return, inside, the hero diminishes.
Over her vessel they place a veil, and when it is lifted
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To the north, along Orange Blossom Trail,
thick breath of sludge fires.
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Or the vision that holds
at its razorpoint
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