I decided

You know how sometimes you really think you have it? When I was in college, I took a bunch of writing classes with this group of (mostly) guys. They were like, you know, and we would meet for a long time even after I had graduated, moved home, moved again, moved back. We were very much on the same wavelength. And it was very comforting. Plus there was a lot of trust there. Deep trust. And metal music. It was good.

So I wrote this one thing. A long time ago. And I felt it pretty good, as in, I was pretty happy with it. And this one guy Walt, who I just adored for all the wrong reasons, we would sit up late and talk about it at his friend's kitchen table or sitting on the trunk of his giant white jalopy. I never felt like I could ever hold on to this one (and in losing all the contact info for my old gmail account, I almost did) but it won me an award, and helped start the bitterness, and coming back around to it, I feel like I have to claim it again. 'Cause sure enough, no one else will. Walt told me it was my entrance, my gateway in-kind. I didn't see it then.

Daniel Tenkiller, this bud's for you:

Moon Pulling

The moon’s distance ellipsed--
satellite so near and barely visible pulling
rhythms of life never braided among
the universal order, silver flecked
with spacedust and comet clutter.
A God wiser, more accepting--

would have made stone satellites revolve
at their own speeds in time, capable
to raise tides and fall on planets, each
a star collective burning, messengers
between confrontations, that frustrated
That is not what I meant at all;
bestowed each their bowstrings

and rotations; could have plucked
down the cosmos, made smaller space
to accommodate the pressure
after a burnout, in becoming dense,
when one is incapable of grasping
the solid ground situation.