Your Eyes

by Celia Dropkin

A deep-green summer is in your eyes,
a summer that pulses from your warm heart,
a summer with a song in its branches,
branches that shadow darkly.

I will go where your eyes lead me,
through fields, valleys, through a dense forest
where paths are crooked and curved
and quiet darkness holds you in its arms.


Charles Bernstein

High Tide at Race Point

by Charles Bernstein

Why I Am Not a Buddhist

by Charles Bernstein
Charles Bernstein