each summer for ten years / he planted one thousand trees
“To write is also not to speak. It is to keep silent. It is to howl noiselessly. ”
“To write is also not to speak. It is to keep silent. It is to howl noiselessly. ”
All tagged poetry
Sometimes when I descend the stairs, I carry sugar cubes in my / sweating palms and barely escape with blood on my knuckles.
having in common oblivion / disguised as transition / their bodies, in water, became new to one another.
my house is ready for you / to beat your wings against its cage