I have a new poem up at The Awl today. It’s called “Canopy,” and it’s about love and global warming (what a pair they make). For more of my poems, you can visit my poetry-only Tumblr enterprise,No More Tangles.

There is a ritual of imagining running into you on a city street, looking up at you, though we are the same height, fingers at the ledge of the cheekbones. It’s the way my grandmother would take people in. This thought is like touching a talisman, a checking-in, almost a…

A smile rising like a moon at the horizon, behind the shadow of someone else’s head, the color of buttermilk. Me practicing unselfconsciousness behind a pillar. I won’t share what was said, and like most great stories and great jokes, I can’t remember, I blacked out, my brain seized up…

How will the warm days play out? For now there’s like a secret gathering, of a young pack with looser borders. Very loose. It just looks off limits. Everyone is invited to gather around the warm, but we don’t. There is something to lose there, it seems, rather than something…

Physical feelings are shallow shoveling. Even the feeling of running, a mostly-good feeling (it too can be abused, of course), is shallow. It’s the work around it that makes it deeper. Do people like to run longer distances because they equate the time out there with more profound reflection, deeper…