Elsa said the tanks never frightened her...
Elsa in Rotterdam
When I No Longer
They will be taken aback by the paucity of socks and the profligate spoons...
Like that spare set of keys
There should be rage beneath the welcome mat, rage in the yellow windows, rage on the roof...
Cup, Basin and Bowl
Take all I am as yours, a meager thing and ancient...
Of Roofs and Rain
Have I forgotten how I stepped from the palms of the old gods...
sponge
if i could make a tool or a song of all that is dead in me...
Each and Permeable Thing
The body, lattice that it is permits a breath of eons...
The Songs We Sang
I would sing those songs but why...
Footprints in Snow
The prints, domestic and brand-name, plodding the same diligent course...
The Hills on Which We Meet
Sleep — In some sort of damp vernacular she speaks...
