Escape can feel like sweetness.
Reading The Blue Clerk, 174
Reading The Blue Clerk, 173
Laughs at the distortion of ineloquence.
Reading The Blue Clerk, 171
The bruise of memory.
Reading The Blue Clerk, 170
The hymns of memory we call flowers.
Reading The Blue Clerk, 169
the gods waiting to be surprised
Reading The Blue Clerk, 168
And sweetness. The memory of it.
Reading The Blue Clerk, 167
A voice is a multiple thing, not a one thing.
Reading The Blue Clerk, 166
Something goes on. In our stillness.
The Second Year
The jasmine is blooming. That, too, is a sweetness.
Gukira 