lifting fog–
a few white feathers
in the raven’s breast

a friend dies . . .
    the surrounding mountains seem
    taller and closer

the long night
a kaleidoscope of moth parts
in the overhead lamp

steeltown Christmas–
drizzle blurs
the neon welcome

winter afternoon
bringing the laundry in
stiff

first snow
the cough from a stubbled face
in the soup line

icy road
a cloud covers the moon
in the dead deer’s eyes

old neighborhood–
the haunted house
now painted yellow

winter dusk–
fog flowing up
the dry canal