by Kathryn Merwin
You thought of Elke, nightclub lights
strobing through her skull (colors
I have never seen), the last night of her small
life. Said things like, before common era, processed Continue reading
by Kathryn Merwin
You thought of Elke, nightclub lights
strobing through her skull (colors
I have never seen), the last night of her small
life. Said things like, before common era, processed Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
By E. Kristin Anderson
Dear God, make me a bird. So I could fly far.
Far far away from here. –Jenny, Forrest Gump
I draw on these sounds for
some sense of reality—windows
are glass and I see my slack-jawed
reflection there.
I flick through albums, imagine
fingers on cardboard jackets,
lace gloves that must be removed
to handle these tomes.
What is a book if not a vehicle
for life? Americans lay in the street
and look for meaning in the clouds. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry