He lumbered the wood of days Hammered its nails Fellowed the growth of vines He need not measure wind To fortunes half his height Before the sun had come…
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Elsa Triolet wears her hair blue to listen to distorted guitar. Ivy Beach dances to Traffic’s “John Barleycorn must die” barefoot after a day in the garden. Paul Jones listens…
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At the final light, kitely, We weep in tongue We’ve sold the house In which we were born The city that you loved us in Has left its bed of…
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What is this city? In language of such mites that I posit its stone night after night. Night, fluorescent in its embrace. Not a single rock thrown at embassy here…
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They never found the crossroad. At first, one person set out to where a ceramic jar had been buried. Its light will tell you if it is, was the instruction.…
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Ten feet in sound And guess what I’ve found There’s enough fire, here To cross the road It’s funny where we go When we chose to let go I’ll…
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You undressed And I undressed Truth in its first state That water is a synonym of orchid Of street Of leaves, the sort that adorn ruins Levity’s protest…
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Her waist in a bandage In her hair a lily At her side a knife Her mother’s broom in two Her only friends ravens A morning of branches In a…
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Where water told us both To wait is to awake the soul Where water told us both That a root at sea is a beak Where water told us both…
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Community, I am a multitude Contemplating an end Faithful to that we are Screaming that we’ll be Rooted in my will to stand And when we portend To raise the…
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There are abstract figures In the wind’s demeanor A singing workhorse To the price of rye I sit and wonder Is the price of rose A moral winter This…
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