One time when I was young my father asked me to help him in the shop by sanding some wood. I began sanding the board against the grain. When my Dad barked at me for it I threw the sanding block down and never helped him again. So perhaps it’s fitting that for the past thirteen years my work has focused almost exclusively on the natural beauty of wood.
Unsayable
That day you went the cracks of dawnThat fractured us like porcelainRan down my road. You called uponAll things but us to start again.That...
Touch
From our family bones make marsh-duffsoil, salt, a kingdom of seedling, stalk—Drinking purple dawn, we wade in the strangeautumnal songs, swallow sunshine, sweet cornskin,...
