This is my second chapbook.
And the ghosts of giggling trees strangely still
corporeal, their mossgrown huge
if humble selves
shelved, their velvet birth and beauty marks
fading the color of a tired prepartum sky -
fractured and whole they lie, tongued and truncated
by the formlessness of flame....
from How Love Consumes a Forest,
in memoriam, The Hayman Fire