“Learn this: keep your hair hidden tight behind your / back so it doesn’t betray you. There are few things worse / than being imprisoned by a fistful of hair innocently free / under moonlight.”
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“in a splattered eruption / of leaking, lingering daybreak // we break / chalky, like the place between fruit and skin.”
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“the sun bear has two / states of mind waiting for lunch and waiting / for home. at home there’s always too long / before friday and sunday is loud.”
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“The trundling rubber of tanks and trucks / flattens za’atar thyme sprigs like bone.”
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“I think the dahlias / forgot to bloom this year, you say / as a way of saying nothing. How do I love / the things I cannot touch?”
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“the sun pulls oceans out our skin, bodies of water and asin / make nanay pinch her lips, pa kiss-kiss naman. she stuffs towels down our shirts and we / dance away, we full-fledged gravity defiers”
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“He’s been scarfing elegies down, / so many he couldn’t fly— / but rest and soak in it, his back to the sun.”
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“I preferred breaking the brown water with stones, / learning how big an opening I might make / into the murk managed by Army engineers; / but you wouldn’t let me.”
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“i have become the sort / of woman who, / when presented with / twombly and pollock, / has an / opinion.”
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“Noah sent the dove / and the dove found a branch around the corner — rested / stretched, enjoyed some alone time.”
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“Forest hugs / me close, the occasional sharp thorny fingernails / tracing taut calves or hoggish spider webs / licking face.”
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“Someday, her grief will / morph into a marble child. / It will stand in the living room for // visitors to see.”
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“Where avalanches cough bold glacial till, / we’re staggered by the wind—by ageless will.” Combining a compelling use of rhyme and a purposeful collection of sound, this sonnet speaks excellence in nature poetry. As we travel with the speaker from ‘the folding-map‘ to ‘tablelands of awe,‘ readers are reminded of the smell of a roaring adventure.
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“his trill after trill tickles your belly, your joy / escapes like a breath you don’t need to hold.“ Not a word wasted, vivid and moving, this sonnet is a work of gentle joy, of life’s truth, of beautiful alliteration and sound.
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This poem moves through language and intimacy in a really powerful way…
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What stunning lyrical form and the unravelling of the magic…
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This poem has such visceral imagery that captures the small and large together…
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Weaved into a beautiful tenderness and a disquiet in word choice…
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sea of wheat, the earth’s white hair sprouting from its scalp…
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vibrant air finds time…
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