A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
a squirrel is hurling insults, and beneath his screeches the cicadas
insist and sigh, insist and sigh, unmoved by his grandiloquent snit.
I still see her, standing there
fastening a floral apron
tripping on the cord of her own life
Before the revolution, later today, I must admire the chiffon sky, Read a story and the weather report, Feed the fish, find a card for a thank you note. Before … Continue reading →
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