Poetry at Sangam



Pretty teachings by James Byrne

She overstood. She shadowiest. She
kindcold deuce, headless in distance.
Who wrangles with the shade of a tree
is silent as a warship on the docks.
Speech like a moth in the ear. Advice
worthy as a giver whose letter is deferred.
What kind of sky is this when the stars
connive above and cannot shoot straight?