Articles

Nadine swiveled toward the oddly familiar voice, seeking a face. All she saw at first were bare feet propped on an armrest.

White wood ripped from a tree

Outside our window the sky carryieth forth / its indigo routines

Apparently, thank God, they have a tour guide, swaying upright, a column of shining, jeweled scales. The guide investigates them with faceted, ravenous eyes.

Really, this is why I’ve always loved and needed poems: they sustain the contemplative hours of the early, unbreeched morning, whenever you come to them.

because
you have
seen the face

of God

My own faith is inextricable from the landscape in which I was taught to believe.

I am so attractive / to you said the drunk / boy.

The meme says you chaos with your hips.