Winter went riling against hard grains of moxie, cotton failed to bud, and dovekies tangled in casters of wind. So, I, too, will nudge into the dusk with its black, dripping stars; thirst my lips with malt and smoke, pulses
Marbled Murrlet in Flight
I stood alone at the salt edge, mukluk with lug soles dwelt ripples of the Pacific in broad lines, stirring engines of self- war. A marbled murrelet shot out from the corduroy nest of the ocean, smattering close to the