After All This After all this love, after the birds rip like scissors through the morning sky, after we leave, when the empty bed appears like a collapsed galaxy, or the wake of disturbed air behind a plane, after that, as the wind turns to stone, as the leaves shriek, you are still breathing inside… Continue reading Richard Jackson
Respect was invented to cover the empty place where love should be. — Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina. (Norilana Books February 16, 2008) Originally published 1873.
The formalist implications of the afterlife Seem to reveal, so far, one star and a black voyage To discover our names, Our real names, imperishably inscribed in the registry of light, From which all letters befall. And that suits me for the time being, Afternoon’s alphabet beginning to firm up in the field, Such… Continue reading Charles Wright