Poems

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  • Toussaint

    The soul, you said, is this sour wind, or this empty glass, the tiny steps of insects, these white iron
  • Like Body

    one light series    discrete
  • Mother Doesn’t Bite

    I bite instead and she needs salt,
  • The Remaining Breast

    I was showing my sister something about my breasts.
  • A Back Road Near Calais, 1961

    A Back Road Near Calais, 1961
  • A Nocturnal Upon Saint Charles Yeager’s Day

    Here comes that sonic boom
  • Poem for Shang Qin

    I’ve been digging my way toward you since the day I was born. I watch the
  • Today’s Comedy

    Why Dante in summer?