Ed. Note: Another in our series of poems by writers who participated in Arlington Writers Resist.
My anthem is the serenade of birds,
sung without regard...
Tent
Sometimes in the morning,
before opening my eyes,
I dream of our tent,
that tiny green dome.
From behind its walls
thin as skin, I hear birds,
leaves, a brush...
art opening
instead of a gun
you use a camera
amputees
are your subject
/these poor people/ you say
the walls of the gallery are dark
prints pinned neatly under spotlight
//life...
LACUNA
Another sun unfurlsover chewing gumcanyons, long gnawedby your foothold.
A corpus colossus,hippocamping: you couchin fault lines, hammockedwhite matter.
Stroke mewith each toss-turn —a neuron-starved bender.
Hypoxia will...
