Blaspheme: To peel an orange with a hammer— mantle the ground in blood say the tree is not the mountain. Polytheist: Dog who loves
—Denise Levertov Evenings, I sit alone and watch my garden crowd and tangle. Plums form, green and small, hard enough to break a window.
1 It’s hard to believe in May, sky the gunmetal gray that murders more than sleep. Clouds won’t leave the sun alone. Nor will