We walk. Last light on the grass where graves should be. Rain will not follow us.
Walking with James Schuyler; The Skeleton Forest; Murmur; Ariadne sings the blues, Landscape
Retracing Old Lines; Backyard Deer; Resting Place
I added to memories held in the curl of these ancient, dusty, blue mountains Perhaps, I added new life to parts of myself The heat is sweltering There's just enough breeze running in the canyon to flutter cottonwood leaves I put my flip flops on and I'm off, with the wind
What you need poetry for…
You need poetry to"free yourself" from misconceptions.
Clinic Hours, After Rain; Ouroboros at the Kitchen Table; Three Small Things I Carry; Pinball, or How the City Learns Its Edges; Sequence: Four Doors
The fluorescent hum remembers the night shift: a blue ribbon of light between the blinds.
Saharagus
One asparagus, sidewinding through the butter-tawny sand on the shadowy side of a six-storey dune...
two words
two words