The space in paintings is not paint; it is space.
Cole Swensen, The Glass Age
I know there are men in the distance.
The trees at the edge of the woods
are sacrificing one another.
Paige Ackerson-Kiely, In No One's Land
a name, etched in, is made of gravity.
I call you, let you wake
into the contours of my voice,
a penance, twinned.
this difficult birth.
it is useless to believe in light
unless blind, & then
kissed Morse Code
across the dash.
you don't have to shape a distance
to walk a flight of stairs.
the poem doesn't have to be difficult.
the poem doesn't.
there is nothing stranger than what
we almost recognize.