Poets sing our human music for us.

“Better off dead than giving in; not taking what you want.”

“Somewhere on the other side of this wide nightand the distance between us, I am…”

“You have me like a drawing, erased, coloured in, untitled, signed by your tongu…”

“I like pouring your tea, liftingthe heavy pot, and tipping it up,so the fragran…”