Chris Moran: After Reading Akhmatova
What can I name my grief, again, today?
A nickel frozen in the sidewalk?
A tumbling paper bag?
March 3, 2020 · 1 Comment
Anna Akhmatova: Lot’s Wife
“It’s not too late, you can still look back
at the red towers of your native Sodom,
the square where once you sang, the spinning-shed,
at the empty windows set in the tall house
where sons and daughters blessed your marriage-bed.”
August 9, 2019 · 1 Comment
Yana Djin: “Days are so slow, adoni, so slow”
Days are so slow, adoni, so slow, each moment like eternity spreads and lingers In the dusk leaves like golden suns shiver and glow, and you lie still, watch the … Continue reading
January 2, 2019 · Leave a comment