The Daughter

We said she was a negative image of me because of her lightness.She's light and also passage, the glory in my cortex.Daughter, where did you get all that goddess?Her eyes are Neruda's two dark pools at twilight.Sometimes she's a stranger in my home because I hadn't imagined her.Who will her daughter be?She and I are… Read More The Daughter

For My Daughter

I love her fierceness when she fights me,shouting "Not fair!" Her eyes slittinglike shutters in cities by the sea.Her life is rife with bonfires—seen and unseen—fires that burn through the turning yearsbringing her to life again, and again, in a miracle of smoke.This heat gives her a sense of forgiveness—or so I imagine—she kisses my… Read More For My Daughter

Kiss of the Sun

 If, as they say, poetry is a sign of somethingamong people, then let this be prearranged now,between us, while we are still peoples: thatat the end of time, which is also the end of poetry(and wheat and evil and insects and love),when the entire human race gathers in the flesh,reconstituted down to the infant's tiniest… Read More Kiss of the Sun