This second collection of poems by the author of RAW HONEY (Alice James Books) explores the emotions brought on by being "schooled in departures."

*****

the form occurs repeatedly

as a function of growth in plants and animals:

the ratio

in the chambered spirals, interstate

the arrangement of seeds in the sunflower

the pine cone

          you make the irrarional proportion

egg

chicken

egg

home

leaving hime

home

*****

we are encysted in shiny cocoons

collecting windshield stickers

from parking lots and town dumps

we are postcards

a forwarding address

our speech is clipped

and the grocer begins to know us

ice has locked the steering mechanism

glare ice locks the pavement in black

I watch myself barrel north

watch the mountains widening

in the rear view mirror

behind the wheel, I believe I am in control

I make the road dimimish behind me

make it disappear into a point

not unlike a taillight

*****

At a deepening

of the Isinglass River

I lie down in stones and tea-colored water.

I think: be careful. Do not say

home. The bones

of that word mend slowly.

Interstate

Slow Loris Press

cover photo: Charter Weeks