Read an Excerpt
Excerpt from the poem Ars Poetica For Intemperate Climates
June in Houston is slow suffocation and riotous
bloom. Indian paintbrush burns-thousands of tiny
refinery flames-on the I-10 embankments.
Inside my apartment, Ella is turning Stormy Weather
into something else, and there's more to this
than phrasing and pitch. "Raining" is born in her body
as breath, becomes ache in her throat, comes out
as a gold gift of sound that lifts, drops, lifts,
the motion of birds when birds are behaving like wind.