[A writer finds he has no words]

A writer finds he has no words for what is rising in his gorge, that he wears small pieces of the dead like jade rings in his body. Once held to cure side pains, the stones, like so many things, are now mere ornaments. So too with words, some precious symbols lying in dormition, dyingContinue reading “[A writer finds he has no words]”


Let the light die tonight. Let this ship go sailing high On still and moonless water. Be fearless and breathless, The shore now close at hand. Gateway to a dreamless land, This last loving and leaving Is the worst and best of all. Ending the body electric Is beginning nothing new.