Poetry

The Apprentice's Last Day The candle is still burning; the flute’s note, unsure of itself, wavers in the door. I have watched and listened, and all that time crowds behind me—the day I burned a whole field with one match, the night I spent in a graveyard, standing on...

Their houses are built from smoke and clouds,…

walking pas the wild cherry tree going nova…

To the most passionate lovers sleep comes…

Some say the secret’s keeping secrets…

We cut down all the trees, and we put them into the sky…

sunlight collides with new maple leaves…

maybe the dark is a dark belief…

I just want to say I’m sorry…