an Elegy for Marx the Bird (03/17/2020 – 10/23/2023) — “He was little or nothing but life”
- Virginia Woolf, “Death of the Moth” where did You go? i hesitate shadows
and untidy piles of leaves
accumulate Eros, angels, and birds
all have wings
to levitate but imitations of You abound:
ink, drawings,
stained glass,
and photographs the sky flows…