 |
One branch of the maple
has turned; here I was looking
out the window, washing
my hair, wondering
if that pale merely maybe
chartreuse leafing..
|
|
I feel the tug of old habits, coarseness
and jealousies, stories
and testing-outs, to feel out
the boundaries of my currentspace, how far
can ..
|
|
for this useful body I am grateful,
for my joy and my solitude, my laughter,
the torrents of music and bells,
peals of good fortune or
silence a..
|
|
שנה טובה
|
|
I have a knife for bread,
for grass golden butter
for sheep and their whey,
to drink in, to wrap up in wool
solar systems like an image,
a cerebr..
|
Advertise Here
Want to advertise here? Get started for as little as $5
|
|
|
I couldn't afford the sleeper
so curled up, like foxes
or sheep, the Latin hunter
in wool, I lied
across two train tracks
too dreamy from rocki..
|
|
I can't convince myself that
I do not feel,
that the winds and the granite,
willows, marmot tracks,
or the sparrow
do not alight in my breath..
|
|
The blackbirds and crows
line up in murders,
on the telephone wires, suspended
over pastures and prairies;
how the storms rise up from our lips
..
|
|
There is no more shape to you
than there is reason,
a burst of light, in the pit
of it, like when the almond first
takes root, the shooting up
..
|
|
I realize how wrong it truly was
to stand in the other direction,
to shirk your protection
and your glow. The basking
gaze of your hottest color,
..
|
|
|
first
prev
Profile
Writing
Friends
Share This