Moonbox Notes #12: Febrero 2023

…the memory became a limb of fate, an oracle of time possibly repeating itself. Patrick and I were at the start of a long road trip, on some highway in southern Idaho. We left the pullout on the side of the road and stopped at the first restaurant we came upon, a small diner. I think I ordered pancakes. I think we held hands across the table. It was also nearly Patrick’s 30th birthday. Happy birthday, no one lives forever anyway. … More Moonbox Notes #12: Febrero 2023

From the Journal: Dampened

Grief is personal knowledge. We didn’t need to understand. We read the way the poems shaped her shoulders against the white slopes, or the way her head bowed after each one — starting with the chin and ending with the eyelids. Snowflakes dusted her hair and dampened her hands. She’d wipe them against her pants or against her reddening cheeks and she slowly dampened, too, unraveling there in the morning glow. … More From the Journal: Dampened