In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

38 september miniatures with blood and mars Even day breaks  In the white bowl the grouse’s blood dries pink then vanishes in the warm suddenly pinkish rinsing water.  Spiders had been sleeping in the logs I split, fell curled to the chopping block and tumbled drowsily into the grooves the maul had made, oblivious to mercy.  Through a hole in the leaf, aphid-chewed, the size of a dilated pupil: Aggins Peak to which the first dusting clung waiting for its next incarnation.  A niece told me she could hear fire “crinkling” under the earth. Who’s to say? Alone here I find myself listening, whispering when I speak at all.  Having determined Pascal’s solution to all 39 problems (sit an hour with one’s thoughts) impossible I napped soundly in the hammock—a man is more than his mind, sang Blind Willie as did Dock Ellis tossing a no-hitter in 1970 while on LSD.  Where did the day go? Now and then against the tin siding of this trailer parked among thistles, a last grasshopper: kicks; kicks; kicks.  The boy asked—When we die, do our days start over—then drew seven separate pictures of ants, each numbered. Your ant companions. Come home soon. Scooby Doo Band-Aid stuck to the last page.  After the storm the firmament bled and the blood was light  What ferryman brought us here across this black nameless flow? Same one waits to float us back across, his cigarette tip winking in the dark. ...

Share