TW Featured Poet
Isn’t hope a sweet, fat fig?
Isn’t hope a sweet, fat fig?
...and the children were small globes, suffused with glitter and morning; and we rolled them between our palms...
as fluke snowfall becomes/run-off, fallout surging/through pipes,/the house animate/with change.
I flow between seasons, sieve out/what I've ported...
She was hungry. She had a craving. She scooped him up and swallowed him whole. Then she was full. Magic built in her.
to label the stars once more in Greek/to know that total silence means the wind is changing/to count the times I suspected otherwise
Nowhere in him can I find / unpolluted water. No story here, / he has famine of the heart.
faster & faster until I lift up, break/into flight – Wind, no questions, no desires
...The inside of this wrist holds memories:/lips flushed against the palimpsest of my arm...
our bodies twisting together,/a kind of thunderstorm blue