This new season holds promise when it comes to love a 10 billion pixel panorama is set before my eyes, my ears, before my skin and you. Budding green shoots, look at the way they are going. They can’t be stopped while overhead the clouds roam like giants, like ceiling ghosts. While under the earth a stirring. A bridge made of flimsy rotting wood, fat with decay yielding. And you think that you struck gold and so, here we are. All there is left is too watch.
Burnt sienna walls, pomegranate trees, oranges and the river that breaks its banks after the November rains; pieces of eggshell hanging by a ribbon from the shrine roof; clay figurines, storage jars, stories, seal-stones, frescoes, hymns; spring wreaths of hyakinthos and orchis quadripunctata moist with sweat; abducted girlfriends, disguised as boys for their wedding night; endless gym classes; thirty-one craggy-faced, grizzle-bearded suitors; countless sheep, oxen, and a horse cut into pieces; a torchlit room with damp sheets, meddling Aphrodite in the corner, smug; a motherless Theseus, a motherless Hermione, who was only nine.
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Two of my new poems “The barmaid” and “The cure” have been published in the inaugural issue of Free Verse Revolution. I also sent in a photomontage artwork to illustrate the first poem, and to my great delight it made the cover!