we didn’t really speak …
Kazim Ali
A book led me to the particular performance of the cello suite …
I fear dispersal but the resounding really sounds may be full of echo …
What represses unhomes in the sound …
Good boy for know enow I no …
My father had a steel comb with which he would comb our hair. …
Know no name …
With thick strokes of ink the sky fills with rain. …
You wanted to be so hungry, you would break into branches, …
The books were all torn apart, sliced along the spines …
home flowers grew …
Waul fill forest trin nev aoul fleme …
How struck I was by that face, years ago, in the church mural: …
In the earthquake days I could not hear you over the din or it might have been …
No body is fixed in position no one can be known …