Poetry

if– mourning’s taking Shakespeare’s form, in part,replacing ev’ry [didn’t] with a [did],circles having outer w(hole)s to impart,i am bic pen ta me ter on a cidthen Death! (as well can have His hold on Spring,for even i ) as in Love as i amcannot compare with ev’ry living thingin mothering my wasn’t-ness: O Lamb,to strike…

aka The earth is red, a base of perception.Her words sound like the flow of lavacooling, deepening to black,There is a physicality to these wordsthat spans our language:the name for soul is a jewel made of red earth.It is the same for blood, the color of its voice:rivers in the shapes of people,chimes accentuating a syllable,or…