Will no one stand on this table of earth and condemn me
Mike Schorsch

Behind the burr
oak, one could
just see a moon
and be blessed

The apophatic crown
on summer's godhead
was the wheeling
flight of jays

& childhood like the sweet
oranges in Pomona
in people's yards

when you are a man
of the Northern Plains
lately driven down

simply exists

to your astonishment