Sparse horizons show me
possibility. It’s then
ideas sharpen—clarity
doesn’t like a crowd.
In a swarm of musts, my focus
is porous as a cloud.
But sheltering where
angled rocks and sky convene—
coiled between lichen and glare—
clarity turns loud.
Explore related work
Camille T. Dungy If you want to go back, take your first turn at the stop sign, / left. Continue on.
Anna Maria Hong Attune and attenuate,
love’s a minor magistrate
strapping a wand to her
inner moon, a pearled mound
Sasha West It wasn’t easy to see, to say: I carried / in my body all the silences: the king laughing / while the men climbed out of my mouth….
