Category: Muse
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I 57
What is it about rows of corn stubs flipping past, electrical wires sagging in sync with the tracks, whistle beaming out to snow-flat fields, clumps of houses, trees so far away you think of desert, that pulls me back to dream-like chatter, long nights on empty roads? We meet again in this rhythmic void, away…
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Day 22
starry white droplets line tree branches, fragile, falling, constellations, signs, against March’s gray realm
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Reserve time
Reserve time for poetry in April, for when the days get longer, we turn out after our deep hermitage, rushing too fast to learn from the budding world. Reserve time for poetry in July when the hammering sun tempts you to spend your best hours dozing, as the herons skim the river. Reserve time for…
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Day 18
under the diamond shining off this raindrop we sit, silent ease, cocooned in dark, unknown, endless
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Day 14
you offer to wipe the snow from my car yet again there is no way back now, I cannot even pretend
Poems from in between 