Reviewed by Dave Seter Raphael Block’s most recent book, The Dreams We Share, fulfills the need for contemporary nature poetry written from a spiritual
Beginning of the divine: first tearful slice, skin parting from each other like lovers, sizzling pallor, gradual darkening, then release beyond belief. Doesn’t matter
What I know is sand, or at least dust; microfilaments, metal and plastic and leftovers from the creation filter through windows even on days
A leaf turns into a hand— veined and open. The yolk of an egg cracked into a bowl is the sun which is France