"We agree on fire, at least—the impossible Fahrenheits,
the Christian moksha of ash and bone chip,
but you want us on a hill,
in your hometown, beside your parents."
A Hurricane Complains to God
"On the sixth day you sent her the duck and she spoke.
“Little duck, send a message that I’m alive.
Take me to my people. Take me to the shore.
Why don’t you take me so that I can fly somewhere with you?""
"deeper to where there is no light but the light
of dark swimmers, finning by without fear
or expectation, impossibly lit from within."