Maggie Nelson

Imagine

The world is so full of things
you could never imagine

An old man brusing
what's left of his hair

with a plastic fork;
a Hasidic guy pushing a stroller

full of frozen poultry. Then
a postcard bearing cherry blossoms

arrives in the mail
It says that you love me

James Galvin

Time Optics

Where the ditch vaults the river,
Where the wooden flume weeps over,
Paying the way,
Where its veil makes a thin distance
And has no critics but wind-in-willowshade,
My love and I lay down
In seventeen kinds of native grasses.
We took our time.
Some wasps were building
A Japanese lantern in the branches,
The flume kept weeping into the river.
Chilly ditchwater.
Don't worry, littls wasps, wooden flume.
I'll be alright gone.