"When words dissolve into rhythm and resonance, the secret reader and the verse are knit."
The sky unfastens its mantle of blue,
spilling amber wine across the ridge of bone.
What did you carry today that was truly yours?
Only the breath, and the stone of longing.
A solitary hawk carves a question into twilight,
answering nothing, needing nothing.
The river does not ask where the ocean begins;
... Click to read full poem (14 lines)
We write because the tongue is too clumsy for truth.
We write because grief has sharp elbows,
and joy is a bird that will not be held in the fist.
At three in the morning, the city stops defending its lies.
The streetlight casts an amber halo on wet pavement.
Listen to the radiator breathing in the corner:
even cold metal remembers the forge.
... Click to read full poem (16 lines)
