Featured Selection of the Month:
September 2003

We built the dawn out of wood without nails or any iron
cobbling hand over hand no tooth to cut along the grain.

Against the low coal sky a quiet chorus rose on wings
and ladders summoning the quiver from the throat.

Evening shed its garment for dropcloth
scattering its charms among the folds.

Hearts unhinged exposing seed and sentiment.
Fallen goods were kneaded into meal.
Eyes aligned to level morning’s rise

And on the height a flag was raised and then another
tongues and wheeling bolts of color fields too numerous to name
teaching shadow to the lock and plane

laughter chatter drone.

We have borne the rope’s toil broken skin to even scores,
shattered glass to gather pieces of a vision seen no more.
I have never seen it.

We have wrung our hands in water seeking truths insoluble
casting salt when doubters bend to drink their raw backs too abused.

Wetnursing sorrow
we forget to lay our troubles down
and lie between.

Come: place your hand on my cheek again Take me down
to the hazel grove through the long grass struck with elderflowers
where track and rumor lead.

Concede your gun there’s no need for such persuasion.
Quit your fire under break of day.

Milk pours from seams through needle eyes.
I will reach to mend the sky and sew your silhouette
to mine

for we are home or we have built a way to it
talcum powder memory heavy on our shoulders.