one day, Coyote sees Duck walking her ducklings, Coyote asks her how she keeps them in a straight line, Duck says she sews them together with white horsetail hair every morning and tugs on the line gently, until the horsehair disappears, that is how she keeps her ducklings in a row

Anyways, you try to place yourself into the nature poetry experience.

The woman at the Salvation Army who sorts and prices is in her eighties and she underestimates the value of everything, for which I am grateful.

I am careful not to make eye contact, but the mother with drapes has such softness in her shoulders and her face and she knows how to say the perfect kind thing—“What a wonderful mother you had.”

laughing as those presidential faces fall sometimes up and sometimes down, all drowning in three inches of chlorinated well water

Chino, Cojo, Curly bursting from the door like shells exploding Singing "I'm a Rican Doodle Dandy" and "What shall We be today, Doctors or Junkies, Soldiers or Winos?"

Their stories didn’t kill me but I would die if I didn’t tell them to you.

The context connections are far too frail, me dijo. To make them you need to pixel-point time.

or pick up a worm to place gracefully in the garden

The story goes from in a rainfall to sister walking a field browned autumn. And when she arrives winter has come, so the old man rises from his chair, picks up matches, pipes and tools, and walks out to begin again.