The last time I dreamed, the world folded and
unfolded at angles waking eyes have never seen.
It crept closer when I looked askance, looming
like a lover feigning patience not possessed.
It retreated in the sigh of an opening door,
playing polite for guests as yet unfamiliar
with the collapsing and resuscitating world
I recall most completely & keenly in sleep.
07/30/2019
For my friend on the occasion of her wedding. What I know of mirrors is their imperfection, their imbalance of mathematics: one reflects one, & we imagine this is wholeness & we believe we know oursel
For my friend on the occasion of his wedding. No eye for art, you said, and turned toward Hunger, livid color leaving you cold, neither keen, nor compelling, not enough, not when you already know how
It is not Death that watches us with suspicion, yet you invoke Her name anyway, make of Her a boundary, make of me an earthen intimacy. There is no revelry in roots no matter how deep they run, only f