The brown sheet tangled with the wind flutters for a milelapping at my ankles a hungry dog of a lakehush-whispered calling for my orange red toes to liftlaunching from the squelching mud of my own young earthAnd they do For an isolated heaven of pine tree lonenesssinging in the dropping July sun among unborn wavesNow…

Evening: I loaded the soiled plates, playing the doting Queen or mother – ordering them into their places, but not until these fingers crossed the dirtiest one, writing my elaborate initials in script and ketchup momentarily. My mother ever watchful reached from behind to rinse the letters away. Morning: I emptied the clean plates, playing the fickle…

Ask: When mother says wound / is it code for another one? / Say: I can’t even bring myself / to say the word. / I say injury. / Ask: Is wound the tear / that won’t ever really heal? / What’s missing now? Say: Another / piece. Another bandage / to cover over. /…

I sought you in the wind           with a song in my hand,           launching into darkness,           the night’s drunk wildness. You wrapped around my lungs           your silver words, your smile. I am breathing you in  …

Translated From Croatian by Mario Frömml The city park benches of Erie are the homes of the homeless. A wheelchair-bound guy, a vet, scrounges a cigarette off me. He then keeps thanking and blessing me, while cruising with a glimpse of scrutiny, of the cold, open seas. For two bucks, the vet’s selling a toy;…

I think, mother had a good plan of giving us the warm honey milk after morning prayer 2 hours before we would start the day the warm milk in my mouth and her gentle hand holding my neck over the years that milk turned into poison mother’s touch cut filled with anger the lust for…