in a way, for all your former silkiness, you were not.
Old Charmers [Poetry]
Distance [Poetry]
Mountains up mountains down
Theft [Poetry]
You know the myth —
If I were a Pine [Poetry]
If I were a pine
Walls [Poetry]
'Cause we have become, walls
When The Last Flower Dies [Poetry]
When the last flower dies; Dying in that space between the soil and the pavement
Reading Neruda and then Li Po [Poetry]
Reading Neruda and then Li Po And listening to Howlin' Wolf and then Tom Waits
I as the being sui generis [Flash Fiction]
My Polish blood seems to be indeed red. My nation knows: mourning and death, wars and subservience. This time is my Polish time, the ontology and logic of starry night above the Polish homeland.
Shimmers [Poetry]
we made a game of it, sprawled in the back seat
Do-Over [Poetry]
I just want a do-over.
