We’re not at Wildacres anymore, but still working on image and poetry



rainy day when everything swirls

like ink floating on water

that prints the shape of mountains

islands, fishing cormorants, the desert’s great saguaro

portion of a spiral—Andromeda

galaxy pinwheeling stars that

spread across blank space

or DNA that unfurls

within the eggs of birds that now are flown

what might remain, a feather, or a breath

what’s written in the sky, both foul and fair

the clouds, the smoke—must speak of elsewhere




Photographs: Isabel Winson-Sagan
Poem: Miriam Sagan

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s