Notes from the Lake #10
2 September 2002
Vol. 2, No. 3
poetry, prose poem
In the twilight of things, pressed up against the acres of glass, with our bodies beneath: we walked to the place where the deer had woven themselves into the trees. The grass mounded white, the light receding.
Notes from the Lake #2
2 September 2002
Vol. 2, No. 3
poetry, prose poem
After days of silent glow, nearing the kneaded air and pacing out the things that I wanted to say, I saw you—we met—like two birds along the paths by the water, between which was haze and wood.
