ERIN RODONI Growing Up Wild
So many creatures slide from / our gaze, little flames of meeting.
Weekly poems, selected by the editors. Featuring new work as well as poems from our rich archives.
So many creatures slide from / our gaze, little flames of meeting.
Clouds are mostly gossip
knowing that the mask is more an image
Which is the best part?
Everything not nailed down is dancing midair
the streetlamp’s trail across our blue blanket
under water, behind glass
I speak down in the long blood
to the edge where listening / is no longer possible—
for once / I understand / this beauty