seeing through the wound

            seeing through the wound i’m working under shadowsi’m terrified of sleepi can’t say i’ve suffered enoughyet i’m thankful for everything what more can i saythe knife lashed across my facein the light of blood from my eyes i could see (kz...

Poem for the Wanderer

Poem for the Wanderer i made a riverfrom my name whereall my homes float away tiny rafts of grieflit with candlesperfect     invisible (kz 1977)

This Is How

This Is How 1It will happen quietly. You won’t know it,at first. The day will dawn, birds will be singing.The coffee will be on. The kids will wake up.It will happen and you won’t know it happened.Get the kids to school, get yourself to work.No one will be talking...

An Explanation

An Explanation I, too, love the colorful flowers,and the soaring, singing birds,and the up-stretched arms of trees,who live always in the posture of prayerand celebration. I, too, have stretchedmy arms up and prayed and sang. I, too, love the faces of childrenand of...
Wildness

Wildness

Wildness I love what’s wildmore than anything cultivatedto an excess so bewilderingthe essence is lost. The wild Nootka rose, for example,with its plain, flat, five-petaled flower,and the purest smell of any blossomI’ve had the pleasure to put my nose in. And, though...