Raymond Carver and Antonio Muchado were winter brothers,
clinking glasses of soft brown bourbon
across the years,
riffing on the way the light runs
the waves up the beach,
on the way the sea
rolls up the night,
on women and the murderous lies
told by free thinkers,
bound together by love of hidden life
like whips of tangled sea kelp,
excavating crippled men and horses
from behind their sad corrals,
harassing the truth.
A rear guard action, yes–
but ever so effective.