Behold:  love cradled in ice. Moon hidden, an afterglow on snow.  A traveler in these fields could miss it.  Space tolls its bell.  He goes outside to look. He is …

The ice hisses like hot iron plunged in water.  Listen to the skate blades on the surface. Speed has sound.  Stars heft. We carry them in our bodies.

The radio turns itself on. The world is awake and listening. The world sets its heart in motion. Listen to the day beat.  Turn your head away from dark. See …

So strange, the laying on of hands, the pen pressing color into white paper. He wears gloves with fingers cut out.  Cold is like caffeine. Fatigue knocks but does not …

Hoch Deutsch all the way. Look, dear heart.  There are gothic spires covered in snow. I never liked this century. This is before Nazis. Maybe it will turn out fine.

The kingdom of the body is empty. Words scattering like milkweed. The quiet waiting of animals. Heart beats on, counting its strokes. The timing chain winds.

At Hamborgarafabrikkan in Akureyri he finds a giant golden burger parachuted from heaven. He consumed hot dog after hot dog in every NI on the Ring Road. They steam in …

Twelve cairns of black stone point the way north. Once the game poured down the valley. Now the lakeside is empty. Voice is the absence of voice. It is time …

The geese scream in the night. They don’t care that we are down below. You put your hand in mine. Listen to the wind. It makes a harmony when the …