and after a brief, velvet / pause, the forest / screams back.
KUNDIMAN 20TH ANNIVERSARY POETRY PORTFOLIO
KUNDIMAN 20TH ANNIVERSARY POETRY PORTFOLIO
and after a brief, velvet / pause, the forest / screams back.
WIT TEA
But I’d learned a thing or two from the cow, learned about things pretending to be other things.
KUNDIMAN 20TH ANNIVERSARY POETRY PORTFOLIO
Into my home, invited Anahita, divinity of waters / of giving me my daughters
TRANSLATION
Translated from Dutch by Bo-Elise Brummelkamp
RECENTLY PUBLISHED
Today, someone will ask me / to write about war. / And I can write about it / because I am alive now.
“Hopeless romantic”—at least in this context—is an oxymoron born of outsider cynicism—hope is inherent in love.
In the coffee shop, unctuous with light, I wait / for the syrup to settle in my gut.
Sometimes, I am only
my bloodstream, a pulsing, flooded atmosphere.