One thing I love about this poem now, twenty years after it was written, is that it goes forth without a bit of armor — with scarcely a veil, in fact. It lives in sixteen simple everyday words, with no need for pride or courage or anything else to hide behind. Reading it is almost like passing through a tiny town you didn’t know was there. Once upon a time, it had a post office. When he sorted the mail, the postmaster wisely threw away the bills, and delivered only the letters.
In the park I see her,
caressing a fallen leaf
as if it were a hand.
Another Song I Know, Cosmopsis Books, 2007
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