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Poem

There is a place (believe me,

            she said) where if, if

                          you go beyond

the street lights, to the lane's end,

Poem

At dawn, she climbs over the horizon
to slink between the curtains
and rest her head on your pillow.

Poem

This is the kingdom of the Water Bear.

To enter here, you have to shrink

and slow down, down. A day

is one tick of the clock, one blink

 

Poem

Tell me, Mama,
Where does the sun come from
in the morning?

Where does it go to
when it reaches the edge of the field?