Crab Orchard Review Vol 23 No 2 October 2018:https://issuu.com/craborchardreview/docs/crab_orchard_review_vol_23_no_2_oct/242
How easily the city is lost, leaves me / to see only what’s at hand: a sliver / of red brick and mortar, a pigeon roosting…
What do we call it, / the light that prisms and keeps / opening its monarch wings, and won’t / fold them or let them be…
In later paintings— / a Brueghel, a Dali— / a hill could also be a breast / grazed by clouds, the breast / of a woman lying on her back…