FIVE POEMS
at some point my translations
at some point my translations
and my notes flew directly to my ear
another day
alone in these white chairs
I rest on sand
an island
rests upon the water
I remember all the kinds of wind
the lightif I walk
Four Poems
It’s a calm, crippling blue fall daypunctured by the tearing caw of a crow and there’s a waiting list to notdisappear into a futureof swirling vermillion foamin a creek of hairripped out in clumps. I’m laying on a pile of dry cardboardhaving forgotte