- - after the lame goat in Rumi’s poem not everything is beautiful said the gods of guilt and fear and I understood suddenly after ...

- - What and where I was a few nights ago I wasn't a star. Not a rain cloud. Or a rose. I was not the barn, or a bird flying out i...

- - A year in an apple Crunch into the sweet flesh, and winter snow crumbles under a black branch where the juncko lands. With the s...