Poetry
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“my mother learned to brush her teeth with / communism staring at her through the”
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“the first tool / is time.”
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“Song of the hour, / Be mine,”
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“In the formidable cosmos, / he is where I want him”
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“Release this and your lonesome heart will wake / The papery wings fluttered”
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“When I can’t trust my restless fingers near you, / But my gaze returns, because it wants to.”
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“I heard the other day / Of gold mine workers”
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“Hey man, I heard bout / the letter you sent”