The way Hope builds his House
The way Hope builds his House It is not with a sill — Nor Rafter — has that Edifice But only Pinnacle — Abode in as supreme This superficies As if it were of Ledges smit Or mortised with the Laws by Emily Dickinson
Dignity in the Home
All the chairs and the long brown couch just lay down on the floor in a line and the thin curtains joined them, sort of on the side or fluttering down onto them and I watched thinking this is the kind of loneliness I should’ve known about and this is nonsense: I object. But the […]
The House
It was a house Of many absences Dust settled on her bed Outside, the green of mountains blue Inside, the shadowy dim of things we knew I met you here This empty house Echoes spliced between silence and quiet Nothing etched from nothingness by Wesley Gibbings
