More on: Poetry

I watched through the window
sunlight performing nothing in particular while the radio announced
if someone were to die, we could not hold a funeral.

On caring for an aging parent

John Matthias explores the outer limits of the sonnet form.

There’s always
the possibility of never coming back

Push on it again,
that point of light.
What do you think
light is?

Faith’s a dissonance, a forgetfulness.

of God yes by the but
not there but for the

act of yes acts of but
not a given state of

You flinched a moment ago when you thought
you heard unseasonable thunder.
Like a judgment.