A contemporary poem about wildfire across the years, using a concrete image system, a pressured turn and a restrained open ending.
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Your hair holds the first fire. Mine holds the smoke after it. Between us, years pull a red thread tight— not a chain, not quite a bridge. You ask what I failed to say. I place my hand over the answer. The thread warms, but does not break.
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A contemporary poem about what the roots remember, using a concrete image system, a pressured turn and a restrained open ending.
A contemporary poem about weekend without witnesses, using a concrete image system, a pressured turn and a restrained open ending.
A contemporary poem about the carpet after applause, using a concrete image system, a pressured turn and a restrained open ending.
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