TO M. AFTER SEEING AGAIN HIS FIRST PICTURE WITH SANTA by Michael Levan What was it made you stick a fingertip in your mouth, searchingly, as if you could sweep stubborn words off your tongue, write them in air and answer the man’s pepperminted question? Remembering how I’d wake you to watch … [Read more…]
SITTING BY A WATERFALL, I’M REMINDED HOW MUCH MY PRIORITIES HAD SHIFTED by Michael Levan I’ve heard this music before: white water’s roar over dam’s edge, batter of limbs caught between rocks chiseled smaller and smoother each day I’ve been alive, each day after, until they give way and let everything go downstream, carried along … [Read more…]