windrag : poetry : journal

:: f : w : i : w ::


just left portland or
more than a week of spring rain
makes the heart grow fond


this spring, the trees I
don’t know the names of have the
most beautiful shapes


younger cousin to
older cousin at dinner
“you’re part grownup, right?”

to portland

caring, as we do,
we need to grumble a bit
before our long trip.


a coyote is shot for eating one cat, a cat

that killed but didn’t eat several songbirds.

what did i do to make it so, and what

do I want to be doing when i die?