ANNIE
I. Lament for Annie
The pink door on Locust streetsits slightly ajar.Once grand,now suffering at the hands of too many strangerswho have no idea where...
Sea Monster
A secret: all the oceans are one oceanAnd the ocean looks the same everywhere.Nevertheless, let us praise the white hour,When the depths disappear...
Bourgeon continues its celebration of Women in Translation Month.
Rationing
In the line a woman shoutsthere’s flour
I think of warm biscuits
Soon I hearonly rice is leftbut...
POULTICEWhen you have looked elsewherefor answers—the spider’s web,the empty hive, the rotted log,beneath the unturned stone—ask yourself what you haveneglected. Do not lamentthat what...
Violin Plays
She holds on tight to bow and strings, yet,it is her body, curving and rounding,on inner caverns that gives musicits beginnings: Soaked in...
