Bill Kimzey

In the morning shower when my brain is clean and fresh, I divert the tumble of my thoughts away from Jack the night my father died. This mem...

Birds erupt outside my hotel window. Cardinal, wren, robin. Yack Yack Yack. All aflutter. Is it about to rain or has Jack returned from nowh...

Jack's tombstone wears the oak's mantel: lichens rust the pink granite; tannins set his name and the chiseled teak pattern in relief...

I came here a lot with Jack after he died. Now I’m back for the wood thrush I suppose, and the gnats and mosquitoes. I take my time along th...

We saw Pisa but you'll never see Venice. There is a photo in front of me now-- you in my arms, Libby at my side-- three of us leaning, m...

A still day in early August. I’m cool in the shade of an old maple on a good bench to sit for birds. Chickadees are chatting but they can’t ...

Prayer from Gray’s River When a mother kills the light in her son’s eyes god moves stone like water for miles and ash rains for months. ...

Prayer at Gray’s River When a mother seizes one life god moves mudstone like water for miles toward the Pacific and ash rains for months. I ...

The Black Sun 1. I sit far back from the center where people walk their strollers and throw frisbees. Depending on what the wind is say...

We need a bigger Sun That was still when wires were small, I tell my absent son. Before the walls were alive with things. The refr...

Eau de Joy My girlfriend picked roses from the landlord’s garden and put them in a vase. The roses were mostly yellow; the petal tips, f...

I cannot breathe. I am swaddled in paper dark in a box with mummied glasses and candlesticks. I am not upset with you stowing me here, but y...

I’m thinking about memory right now.  Different types of memory … maybe I rank the types from most vivid to least.  (I’m trying to depict i...

Pawn I A pawn of blond wood stained dark is easily stranded in shadows of a book box kept by fear for last— the shelves already full.  ...

inter at your plot in trees above the Gladstone tracks the sun is your hat today you never saw your sister run her rocking horse a ...

Against the White Sox in Their First World Series Kali barks Mine! at the lazy, lolling spilling cardinal maple leaf.             Jac...

Without Urging - after Jack Gilbert’s Music is the Memory of What Never Happened Your best move this weekend was slipping your red T-sh...

His Big House Jack’s friends lit candles. Libby read Kindness . I shook all the hands— sustained embraces. When the last gues...

Ode to a Pillow You slept nights in 300 count cotton. Maybe towards the end, Denise shrouded you in 500. Only today I noticed you miss...