Maps IV For N he sutures the rip in our map-tapestry with his tonguethe way his soft white beard emotes makes me swoonthis compass always points Us so when we veerindependentthe latitudes lead heart-forth& the starry sky flips, falls on our naked time has no place in this legendlove atlas-es, outlasts each body& yet, we… Continue reading POEM A DAY – AUGUST 9