What ambition did I hold then
that hangs now? These arms do
not reach for old threads but
hang loose, light. Unburdened.
Those are not my cuffs binding
your wrists, & I've never held
you captive. Except
when I have.
Where, then,
would your dreams lead you, so
adamant, obstinate & ruthless?
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