Alice Wakes at Two and Looks Out the Window A gate, she thinks, I’m the gate of my breathing, of this powdery chant, and I’ll always mistake stars for dust exploding white in the noon sun. They dance, those jewels, as will I, dance to the zoo with my blue feet on, with a silver… Continue reading Bob Hicok
The hardest thing on earth is choosing what matters. ― Sue Monk Kidd, The Secret Life of Bees. (Penguin Books; 1st edition, January 28, 2003) Originally 2001.
I meant for this poem to glow in the dark like one of those old statues of saints my father kept on the dashboard to guide the way. But aren’t we always lost? —Richard Jackson, from “While You Were Away,” Out of Place: Poems (The Ashland Poetry Press, 2014)