At the Hands of a Poet
At the Hands of a Poet Neruda heats me up with “I want to do with you what spring does with the…
Read MoreAt the Hands of a Poet Neruda heats me up with “I want to do with you what spring does with the…
Read MoreBetween Love and a Hard Place Just days after he moved his young bride into the house, he went on a rampage,…
Read MoreThe Sound of a Marching Band Always Did Make Me Cry a Little The click and throb of a drum corps slays…
Read MoreEyes Lifted Bruised sky, purpled breath of a fall late in coming. Rain dribbled windows smear the catalpa tree, emerald to…
Read MoreThe Ocean of You Never Changes Look inside. You will see it’s true. Even when you were very small, birds held the…
Read MoreAlmost Home Urging my brother’s car north, away from the hot and straining airport, I will the flat land to pass away…
Read MoreCome October Come October, I seem, always, to be meeting my self again, as if I’ve been away or forgotten to…
Read MoreAnd Haven’t Things Always Been Falling Down Around Us Come. Forty years gone, I can still show you the ruins we used…
Read MoreThe Names of Things All this desperate searching, striving, buttoned up to your chin in absolutes. For you, brother, I say…
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