Karen Volkman Poems

A light says why. From all the poor prying. Again we attain a more
regal posture--small bird accompanying slips between our whim.
Where will we flicker, loose as two feathers from a wren's back? Gone,
do not brood for all the hands that miss you. They hardly hold. Don't
...

Labor as a tulip
arrays its flame, nu
form, as the bulb-star,
...

Laughing below, the unimagined room
in unimagined mouths,
...