What Poetry Means

  “What does your poetry mean?” asks another well-meaning reader. I stumble for a response, consider how much to say, how any answer misleads. Mine is a poetry of breath and pulse, of blood and bone in a spiral with presence. In return, I may ask, “What does your...

Disembodied on the Elevator

What is it about elevators that so disembodies us? We step into a small room and are whisked to new elevations which alters our attitude and usual signs of vitality. Our personalities pale, conversation halts, all movement abates. We enter a type of hibernation, our...
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