Even poets must get real. Twilight, where we see the sun and the moon, doesn’t last an eternity: one is another reprieve; the other, the loss of all breath. One is dropping; the other flaunts its chill beauty. I could die for such beauty; I will have to go down, like the sun, for such […]
In the pit of night, the unlit street is slow and silent. (I can hardly be said to be moving myself.) Still, I arrive home. The steps to my apartment are steep, but I am at the door. Where are my keys? I find them and open the door. Inside is more darkness, anxiety and […]
Losses are like additions to a house: the multiplication of space— a hoped-for extension of time. But all houses, now, burn or collapse, or drape the withering tree we tote in black attire, or drop songs of birds inside the fire inside the fire.
Out of the crack of the moon, a lizard slips, salmon-pink, brown-spotted, and is instantly devoured by my sainted cat. The walls, though upright, lie still; glasses touch, creating a ripple of sound, a touch of unease, the loss of an eye, the drop of the moon, a terrible song underneath the earth. We barely […]
Flood season, and the banks of the river become part of the river, taking with it a tangle of trees like spiderwebs. Occasionally a hand surfaces detached from an arm, or an arm split from a shoulder. The sky is the eye of a bat; the wind, the shriek of an owl. We lie in […]