Fragments from the renewal


How in the world do we survive 

these daily heartbreaks: 

a slender tall tree so heavy with apples 

it looks like an umbrella 



I only just learned the delightful burst of lemon across the tongue / when biting down on a bundle of wood sorrel / so as I walk down the hill towards Little Italy / and notice its delicate green peek / from the cracks on that big brick wall / I think about the ways Earth provides for us: 

so correct / so unexpected  



For so long I scoffed at poetry as medicine, as 

anything short of ribs wrenched from our torsos 


But I’ll ask you again: 

which is more sacred, 

the wound or the healing?