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Psaltery & Lyre

As It Is on Earth

Is it finally fair to say like gods / we make images to pour ourselves into?

When It’s Time to Leave: Conversation 4

If you’re not-Mormon, it’s impossible not to be aware of being not-Mormon. You learn about the Mormons, in order to be not-Mormon, and in order to not be tempted into being married to a Mormon.

Three Poems

My sister casts buttons through / her window—they shadow / / like pills into small ponds / of late winter ice.

Two Poems

like a book left open in the rain; pages wrinkle, / rip and fall before their ambiguities are read.

Meridional overturning

In the freezing season, the lacerated places breed / / bright ice in matrices and lattices, glittering, / highballing.

Ain’t No Man

I see men as trees, walking. If men were trees, if our cities were forests, our towns dense groves, what kind of world would we then make?

Two Poems

You carry it in on your palm-stretcher, / a brittle-spit, a kicked-out life-in-a-stick, / / all stuttering beak and shattered spindle, / like a rickety dollhouse staircase.

Shut Up and Listen: Conversation 3

“[The church] needs about 400 years of repentance to queer people,” the would-be priest laughs.

Two Poems

Remember how we used to love? / / The way our hearts were rough-hewn / and rabbeted together like the shiplap / on the barn out back

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