Tag Archives: Jeffrey Heath

Picasso Woman

Pink cap over shadow’s scalp, skin papered, pale, transparent. A child watches, color flowering from this forever bed as we teach the ways to say goodbye. Driving through the night, I listened to your memory for an uncoordinated time as … Continue reading

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the dead

the dead are leaves stapled to windbreaks whisper of ants pungent crisp of melaluca bark the dead are jetsam in the whorl of muddied rivers the dead are raised, stone cherubs in Nouvelle-OrlĂ©ans they cannot keep their distance the dead … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | 2 Comments