Two PoemsJulie Doxsee
Worming the Soul from Enclosure to Honor Inhabitants with fiction beflower its gray picnic XYZ eats a tenth moon & the harbor of sleep is saved in the wind's bones.
The Royal Chimes Colliding there is a pigeon in a glass boxwhose two or three flaps happen early.a wingnot your ownbesidean umbrellanot your ownis little, the pitch inside the skin of quiet chimesthrilled, shrillnessa helixin the cooing silk.
1996 © 2006
there is a pigeon in a glass box