The Oakwood

(incomplete, but worthwhile as is)

You are not the tree sprung from the seed,

but the forest in its entirety. Complexity

in your canopy of gold-limned foliage,

the depth of shadow across your floor.

Recent Posts

For my friend on the occasion of her wedding. What I know of mirrors is their imperfection, their imbalance of mathematics: one reflects...

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...

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....