Term: Poetry
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Is he mourning? waiting? Are his eyes as tearful as you pictured? Are they fearful of the world to come without you? I’m sure he’d...
In Kolkata, heat arrived as silence, thick, smothering. The days clung to us, draped like wet cloth, the evenings stitched with the hum of cicadas,...
Neither Socrates, nor Aristotle – not even Plato – knows that in the contemporary folio a word, given a sail and a wind, corresponds to...
What you take from the ground doesn’t always give back.
Near-noon sunlit County Sligo by Lough Gill, late August or early September. I unfolded out of the tour van, stood looking at the glistening lake...
The cows have spread out and I’ve counted fourteen. No, seventeen. Their heads hang low, they don’t need to look up Like us. Until they...
On a clear day in Adair County, all the sounds fit into boxes. There was a room for squares. What if we weren’t meant for...
I pledge allegiance to the moon & all the ghost stories for which she stands, the public light & shadows that make little claims. I...
At Kew Gardens, it rests in a shallow pool. Platen leaves radiate, nourished by cable-like stalks, centrally anchored. The palms are airy and colossal; the...
Dusk slipped through the broken fingers of the forest, where nothing grew but round, copper mushrooms shiny as dropped pennies, and shocking white constellations of...
Our days reach the perfection of fruit about to fall. Drifts of sunlight pile against the trees, and deep pools of shadow wait in their...
My first trip to New York City I wore black: black leather boots, black dress, black panties, black bra, black glass-bead earrings against cotton-white skin....
So little moves at noon across the flat pans of the Iranian desert. Below the surface, often a hundred feet, hand-dug qanats have veined water...
Did you know ginkgo trees lose all their leaves at once? And I could too Peel it off like yellow wallpaper.
Turn on the eel documentary for the second time think of your dead grandmother She could have been an eel, you know great, slinking goddess...
In Georgia O’Keeffe’s “Patio Door with Green Leaf,” a small, yellow-green leaf floats in front of a brown-red adobe wall, the colour of earth, the...
[NEW YORK, MARCH 2003] — In the beginning I traveled in the hushed hours between midnight and dawn. I savored the quiet that fell over...