The muffled sound of the fruit
as it carefully breaks from a branch,
amid the incessant chant
of the silence, deep in the woods.
1908
Contributed By: Alistair Noon, Osip Mandelshtam
The muffled sound of the fruit
as it carefully breaks from a branch,
amid the incessant chant
of the silence, deep in the woods.
1908
Return to table of contents for Issue 3 Fall 2010
The nightingale is plucking out its feathers. So what if it pulls them all out? I bought you a flower. You said it had faded. It fades. So what? Are you done judging me or with your jealousy tests? It’s just two kisses on the cheek. So what? At night, you set two shot glasses […]
Time Stitches starts with a shape poem:
to al
l those play
ing
hopscotch wi
thin
the gaps οf his
tory
More than liking / how it tasted I was just tickled to bear / witness.
