I Am Your Mother (There Is No Mistake) Labor split me open, like an earthquake Gone, my old landscape and cave where I danced I
Tag: Poetry
HIPPICUS, MARIAMNE AND PHAESAL By Mark Burgh
HIPPICUS, MARIAMNE AND PHAESAL Hippicus, Miriamne, and Phaesal, shaded me on clear sun days, sundailed the city. I drunk the hours; wine clear or blood
Leaving again By Fabrice Poussin
Leaving again They have made an eclectic line rainbow of confusing pastels near the strangely scented platforms. Randomly dressed in a lasting rush hair blowing
L’Angélus By Seth Wieck
L’Angélus For David, after Millet The air distends, diffusing light and sound. Our vespers announce on bellsong. Crows rise in timorous peal of wingflap, feather-
Street Fair By Diane Lee Moomey
Street Fair – the trader speaks We’ll pitch our tents by light of sun or moon— in every land on earth we show our wares,
Saxophone By Louise Machen
Saxophone A saxophone is ribboning out into the orange sky its silken refrain a resident of the thick August air: a sombre scale to say
Grand Little Things 