Şiir

Won’t you celebrate with me what I have shaped into a kind of life? I had no model. Born in Babylon both nonwhite and woman. What did I...

Summer is late, my heart. Words plucked out of the air some forty years ago when I was wild with love and torn almost in two scatter like...

Loving a trapeze artist. Me the flyer, he the catcher... Someone who made void his home. Throwing me in the air Over and over. And again....

There are names for what binds us: strong forces, weak forces. Look around, you can see them: the skin that forms in a half-empty cup,...

Afterwards, the compromise. Bodies resume their boundaries. These legs, for instance, mine. Your arms take you back in. Spoons of our...