Rorschach Test

 

Smelling of melon and charred corn chips,
two old lovers came to me in a dream
describing poems they’d written
and squirreled away on flash drives
to feed a starving heart in case of famine.

Their verses spoke of Rorschach tests,
of beauty in the legs of insects anchored
to a spider's web, but I did not understand.

Insects Anchored to a SpiderWeb

 

 

 

Toul Sleng

At Toul Sleng

December 2005

Some doors should not be opened,
like the doors . . . [so goes the opening
of a poem published in Pudding Magazine]

 

 

Ivy Door

 

 

 

Before the Equinox
photo by Thomas Born

 

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