The Story of a Tree

    Her eyes spoke of mid-November nights Gloomed by cold, and hiding secrets of pain....

  And I am so devoted to you, sun that every evening, when the sky goddess takes you to her...

The wind is tired; let it rest the repertoire of morning birds on the eucalyptus branches Let the...

I want you in every season of me, at each height, at every breaking. You are my quiet, the one who...

Sitting in the back, I see sunlight shining on the scratches of old desks. And the clock above...

  —to proclaim out beyond even the Cosmos as if sending the messages wind-blown off a brain’s...

As I pack, absurd regrets vie for room With checklists in my brain. The marmalade And butter...