"In a glint of needle light, of grass seeds, dew flecks,
Garden solstice, The Antioch Review, 1 Jun 1996.
a friend is throwing her voice while far inside a grainy
heaven a butcher's apron ripples its dried blood in the wind.
The bark strippings, excelsior, the panicles of the garden.
In the midst of summer a friend cuts greens and places them
in a bowl as if they were fronds. A friend is a vinegar - and
now, pearl-shaped, in clusters, faces among her face, A globes
rise on the lawn, each above a root of recriminations."
want your poem here? then email me: superfido@hotmail.com
