Tag: Art
-
Day 26
you, broad elm, shaved down to earth – I stand now on your great stump, yearn to be your medium, tell what you will
-
Day 25
I claim I know who I am and how, what to write down, but nighttime, wet snow falling presses me on that point
-
Day 24
a clean sheet of paper hides every sin, each fumble and misspelling, so you think God spoke to me clean through, that I am innocent
-
Day 21
when you tell of youth, and risk, and being bold, you do not reveal the cloister in your heart — how even now it hides itself
-
Day 19
that dark corner may recall years past as it sighs – drowsy, in a haze – that I was here writing long into its unwinding future
Poems from in between 