Under sun, the golden crosses shine
When the sun bursts through the rapid clouds
Gleaming in sympathy.

Under sun, the golden crosses shine
When the sun bursts through the rapid clouds
Gleaming in sympathy.
“there is nothing special about this suffering”
A visitor from outer space,
this alien flames from the back hall’s
dark floor tile. As if this were its target
from the beginning.
“He was probably casual, might have shrugged, like it was nothing and everything all at once. But specifically — how did he look? What was he wearing?”
“Should the fall be anything but
a short one, trust that I’ve carefully prepared a soft bed
of pine needles on the ground, just in case it’s you.”
i live in the skin of starsun and gilt-edged love.
in light I lift up your sunstarry eyeless eyes.
by Stephen Cecchini Wildflowers They sway …
“We, the people, reenact our salvation,
recollecting over matzah and merlot
the tide of events escorting us forth
from servitude to liberty; perennially imperiled,
we dismiss millennia and return to the sea”