You were wringing your hands. The red shower stained the lawn. Ebb and flow. What we touch touches us, too. I say my life feels so small. You define spangle, set off a fireworks show and it melts in all its color glory onto the roof of the State building. We said we'd try again when we were a little older. In the corntown where we looked for each other, blinded by the church light.

Strike three. Phone ringing Perhaps in a dream, perhaps in the middle of the night - "The year is 1998. Wild lambs roam each slaughter field. Beings from the sky, maybe." from "4th grade Existentialism in the Sky" A childhood spent wrestling with God and his machines. Night in the English Channel. The first synesthetic cowboy novel. "Poetry in itself is inherently chaotic, violent, and American.

" Earth & String is a book of Millennial discordance; the pulse beneath each groomed lawn among the oil tanks and native tombs.