More on: Patricia Fargnoli

the forest will have broken open its green gates to allow me in and I’ll walk through the undergrowth as easily as if there had been a path there though there is nothing but bramble, briar, the scratching blackberry canes how long, I wonder, have you been waiting? I will not know you are there…

On lines from “In Memory of the Spanish Poet Federico Garcia Lorca” by Thomas Merton Where the white bridge rears up its stamping arches Proud as a colt across the clatter of the shallow river, The sharp guitars Have never forgotten your name. I stood up to my knees in the April river and the…