Experiences
Sitting in the garden, she sorts through seeds
of well-known plants, maybe animals,
though just as easily she could dream up
all these species,
and we’d accept that they exist.
Even with fingers gnarled as branches,
she pulls, sorts, and weaves
abundant threads, life forms, sequins,
plump fleas.
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of well-known plants, maybe animals,
though just as easily she could dream up
all these species,
and we’d accept that they exist.
Even with fingers gnarled as branches,
she pulls, sorts, and weaves
abundant threads, life forms, sequins,
plump fleas.
he handed me a revised version
of my love poem
asking with surprise
what the word katyush was doing
in a love poem
I responded with surprise
that I didn’t understand
the question
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of my love poem
asking with surprise
what the word katyush was doing
in a love poem
I responded with surprise
that I didn’t understand
the question
April like a lovely flame this year
wants to save us with forsythia prayers
and plucks the heavens as lightly as strings.
To our wounds it presses tiny leaves.
This is the body’s season, fragile, unholy,
trembling before each crush of air,
each ghost that capers in the distance.
Spring is killing us—
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wants to save us with forsythia prayers
and plucks the heavens as lightly as strings.
To our wounds it presses tiny leaves.
This is the body’s season, fragile, unholy,
trembling before each crush of air,
each ghost that capers in the distance.
Spring is killing us—
On the far side of the lake, the shattered pane of an ice floe,
closer in waves like soft streaks, one by one
docking near the shore,
then setting out from shore.
Later I watched as a heron skimmed over that icy pane,
doubled, mirrored,
both real and reflected,
reflected and real:
that day I did nothing,
yet I did everything necessary.
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closer in waves like soft streaks, one by one
docking near the shore,
then setting out from shore.
Later I watched as a heron skimmed over that icy pane,
doubled, mirrored,
both real and reflected,
reflected and real:
that day I did nothing,
yet I did everything necessary.
Do you know the plant sorrowbalm?
When fire stifles every trace
of the word you (for you, with you, because of you),
smoke spurs the germination of its seeds.
Its blossoms hang heavy as a black peony’s,
yet its drooping petals are light.
Its roots penetrate the beginnings
of a story that’s come to an end.
Its thorns sear. But a tea or compress
from its leaves can heal.
Continue reading
When fire stifles every trace
of the word you (for you, with you, because of you),
smoke spurs the germination of its seeds.
Its blossoms hang heavy as a black peony’s,
yet its drooping petals are light.
Its roots penetrate the beginnings
of a story that’s come to an end.
Its thorns sear. But a tea or compress
from its leaves can heal.
More
Poetry
he handed me a revised version
of my love poem
asking with surprise
what the word katyush was doing
in a love poem
I responded with surprise
that I didn’t understand
the question
Continue reading
of my love poem
asking with surprise
what the word katyush was doing
in a love poem
I responded with surprise
that I didn’t understand
the question
On the far side of the lake, the shattered pane of an ice floe,
closer in waves like soft streaks, one by one
docking near the shore,
then setting out from shore.
Later I watched as a heron skimmed over that icy pane,
doubled, mirrored,
both real and reflected,
reflected and real:
that day I did nothing,
yet I did everything necessary.
Continue reading
closer in waves like soft streaks, one by one
docking near the shore,
then setting out from shore.
Later I watched as a heron skimmed over that icy pane,
doubled, mirrored,
both real and reflected,
reflected and real:
that day I did nothing,
yet I did everything necessary.
Visual arts
