The Art of Poetry No. 118
“If I could say I was assigned something at birth, it would be to keep the soul fresh and clean, and to not let anything bring it down.”
“If I could say I was assigned something at birth, it would be to keep the soul fresh and clean, and to not let anything bring it down.”
The ruin we made of our garden
Is confusing even today.
Seven trees times three
Somewhere between Norway and Ireland
volcanic rocks and glaciers leap from the sea
My map has failed me, I’m there
My enemy keeps
a bowl of anemones
on my bedside table
When you pressed two rings,
the one larger than the other,
into my tongue, you crushed my hunger.
“When one brain was weary / one heart was not.”