Category: Poetry

tragedy gathers about
the thirdRock
from some unattributable fault-line,
like great steel barrels of oil

you

b r e a k m e d o w nn
o
w gently

my a p o l o g y r e s ts
a

be moved – or be broken down
taken by the melody as it pUshes in at the edges,
like an owl in the dusk
silently signing the

We say we fall
in(to)
love

which is true, although, is it not also the case –
? love is where
we originate ?

So there you are,
pushing up snow-pink Magnolia
thirsty for the sun, the shire,
the hum of spring