A Poem: Natus Ex Machina…
I imagine beginnings, Where word makers harnessed the stars, Leading up to the two of us. Now, the Atlantic air lifts the curtains Up over the indignities of dishes And unbleached enamel. Our worn minds and hands Retrace the contours Of mountains and empathy. Softly watching As crossroads and names Morph into self, into oblivion. Published in Penumbra 2021