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
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