To the Ram’s Horn I Cannot Sound
By Poetry Issue 110
The sound I imagine / you make has to / hold me and wake / me to its own kind / of internal return.
Read MoreIt’s Late
By Poetry Issue 95
It’s been a while already since the last pair of animals climbed into the ark. An admirable job. The solitary ones have remained on earth, the unpaired, the ones marked with a red felt pen by God. The chill of the first drops disperses them onto the avenues slippery from the port and docks already…
Read MoreTo the One Who Tames
By Poetry Issue 92
Tu deviens responsable pour toujours de ce que tu as apprivoisé. —Antoine de Saint-Exupéry Tame me—you whom I can never see— ——-each word I utter, each prayer I kneel for. Here I am, pacing—now wrest from me ——-a new song to find its way to you. If you…
Read MoreMy Life as an Open-Air Temple
By Poetry Issue 92
From cramped to roofless ——-I became—I don’t know how— ————–an open-air temple with no pillars. My walls of stone, lichen-covered, where many feet came to pray. ——-The willows shook around me ————–as mice and small insects knelt in moonlight, I could feel the breath of many spirits ——-winging through my chamber: ————–rabbis dropping pocket lint—…
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