Heart

Raison d’être à la Oz

I Don’t Think There’s Anything In That Black Bag For Me

Rules for Ghosts

My mother, cut down in her prime

lines through the heart

a dividing line
straight through the heart
harsh cuts across the looping arteries
black and white gnawing away the…

Shall We Dance?

A Lighthearted Poem

Shall we dance?

Μία φορά — Once

A greek poem about mind and heart trapped in pothos.