Full Moon

From the June/July 1996 Print Edition

after Rilke Put out my eyes, I can see your face. Close me ears, I can hear your voice. Take my feet, I will not forget the way. Take my mouth, and your name will still be on my lips. Break these arms, and you will find me holding You with this heart as if it were a hand. Make my heart stop, and my . . . . Continue Reading »


From the May 1996 Print Edition

You have taken away my names. Last night the loon was crying for you, one call after another, a ripple of clearest water virgin and pure, cut off from the source, a mouth of tumbled grief. The wind was looking for you. Searching the trees, scaling the tall pines and knotted salt oaks, the Spanish . . . . Continue Reading »