Snails circle A shed where a child was born. She bled into straw— Who can write this? Under Arcturus, Rubble of light: We have no words For what is happening— Still language endures Celan said As he stood in a torn Green coat Shivering a little, In a night theater, in Bremen....Learn More

In a crumpled shirt (so casual for a god) Bow tucked loosely under an arm still jittery from battle He balanced himself on a flat boat painted black Each wave as I kneel closer a migrant flag A tongue with syllables no script can catch The many births you have passed through, try to remember them as I do mine Memory is all you have. Still,...Learn More