From Liontaming in America, which was published last month by New Directions.
I was reaching for a passage to the world they came from, the bodies slowly turning into the dirt from which I came.
A sentence shot with sleeplessness.
Something in the middle distance while my eyes are on the road.
I feel for a pen somewhere above the speed limit, clothed in metal flying just above the ground.
I write this sentence on a cliff above a lake.
A deer comes to look while I take something to get me through the twilight.
I write this as I…