TW Poetry Spotlight
At dusk they'd bicker and fuss
At dusk they'd bicker and fuss
to the blues wafting out over the Pacific
hope is hard to grasp when your imagination’s/grown fat on darkness
I duck down to reach through their legs, grabbing their kids before they fall.
on the steps of the schoolyard, eating her sandwich. Thinking nothing,
the heap of reasons/I could use to explain/charity, poverty, loss
repeating beautiful & beautiful, but drowning
You are an island, a granite crust on a black platter of rivers...
When I first read U.S.1, the sure hand of this very young poet amazed me.