Not even a moment,A narrow gap in the pillarsOf . . . heaven? sheer exhaustion? Widened, disclosing a haloOf few words, thusMy Nebraska. Thus a green distance Briefly gilded the blackness underneath.I was more tired than I knew. In less than a moment, the few Words ample to all poems bent Horizon into a Mercator …
Angel of my loves, I cannotAnymore capture the smallest words, Your wings as once youClosed them upon me and night ended. Nothing moves freely in me.The sun’s a legend with no biography. Bedsheets disappear into the garden noise, Making shadows. If I were to ask the roses, Only one would know your name.Nothing moves without …