American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fragment · Language Driven Poetry · Passage · Poetry

Richard Jackson

So how can I measure how much I love you?
Except the way the willow measures the universe.
Except the way your hair is tangled among the stars.
The way the turtle’s shell reflects the night’s sky.
I’m not counting on anything anymore.

— Richard Jackson, from “No Turn On Red,” Heartwall (University of Massachusetts Press, 2000)

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