Like water down the well of your back, I trace my touch over the slope of your ribs, feel your ujjayi dove reverberate into my anahata and all is a soft static I hear the echo of mercury waves rock steady under the pink moon...Read More
For the nights he spent on foot wondering the wakes the summit had left in its ofference as exception to earth, a dream would come like a lightning bolt and ground him and confusion would dance between spliced ions and scatter...Read More
I study the shape of her open mouth as she says it. The cringe of her nose and upward pull of cheeks. The word on her lips as if: we are longtime friends, girlfriends even, who share secrets, know each other’s birthdays, our...Read More
To be born in the fire of yesterday and breathe as if more is to come. This sorrow that fills us, heavy with the ground of our need can also lift us like the scattered petals of spring buds. Let it sing with the ache of new...Read More
Riding on the bus some June day riding through some steamy down-and-out metropolis, blocks and blocks of it; dirty streets, blasts of hot air assail us; it’s high noon all the time seems to be; we passengers slouch in the...Read More
Who is he? I’m dead sure he didn’t graduate with us. Look. Standing behind him. Lola. How brave of her! I didn’t think she’d make it after our 45th. Who in the world— ninety degrees and wearing black. Look, there’s Irene. Yes,...Read More
Motionless water Rain falling from the Heavens Ripples in the pond A.K. Finch is a writer, teacher, and poet. She lives in Southern California with her husband, daughter, rescue dog, and cat. Her poems have been published by The...Read More
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