I sometimes wonder what happens after the last breath, if awareness stays as I’m thrust into a new place where I know no one   and after that jarring initiation, I hope it doesn’t take long to get my feet on the ground, and knowing me, let my mouth start reeling in the first few souls I encounter, hopefully a friend or two, then find some social group for newcomers before joining a club or two, get invited to a potluck, hoping they have ovens and ingredients for cookie dough

years ago, I nearly moved to those Tucson foothills and spent a few nights there   the yip of coyotes was as feral as the silence   stars as overwhelming as the darkness   Tucson’s lights quivered in the waves of escaping heat   so when Nancy Guthrie was pulled from her house, it was a wavelet in the stillness, one ripple on a sleepy ocean   coyotes heard it smelled blood they didn’t recognize stopped the hunt in its tracks aiming ears, flaring noses as eyes watered into a st

we step out the front door it’s eerie, like a piece of glass slipped over a painted world   a still life   so quiet I hear the blood run in my head, like you’d notice a creek hidden around a bend   wind, birds, all sound crushed my dogs look around too, noses flair, heads swiveling, nothing   the stillness feels lonely, almost apocalyptic, like, where is everyone?   halftime’s almost over although I can’t hear them refill glasses and munching bowls   or use choice adverbs and