From the book:
        
        day of the dead
        after the painting by Diego Rivera
        
        looking back
        I cannot understand
                 on such a day as that
        why we were the only ones
        with tequila on our lips
        
        you
        lovely in black dress
        the brooch
        I bought for you
        in Juarez
        the month the butterflies returned
        
        me in hat and tie
              both a color
        you said reminded you
        of marigolds you placed on your mothers alter
        
        I nodded along to the music 
        which I believe you took as a sign that I agreed
        
        you wanted to go to the celebration 
        because of a sense of tradition and honor
        
        I just wanted to get drunk and
        watch an ocean of skulls flow by
        
        making up stories
        for every one of the faces
        that hid behind them
        
        
        sonnet 1
        
        the woodshed door was secured
        with a drift pin ran through a pair of eyes
        he had the logs split and stacked by July
        December should see wood well cured
        won’t need it sooner unless surprised
        by an early winter—which he heard
        from guy at the feed store who was sure
        would happen if you were to go by the skies
        the Inuit say they are not as they were
        the stars lately seem to track different lines
        the seal the bear the snows practically cry
        but man ignores any suggestion for a cure
        having no answers he shouldered a bag of grain
        and surely felt older than when he came in
        
        Nocturne and other Poems
        is a 40 page hand-stitched chapbook - $10.00
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