A Ghost Poem by Cole Swensen
A Ghost
erodes the line between being and place becomes the place of being time and so
the house turns in the snow is why a ghost always has the architecture of a storm
The architect tore down room after room until the sound stopped. A ghost is one
among the ages at the edge of a cliff empty sails on the bay even when a ship
or the house moves off in fog asks you out loud to let the stranger in
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/1/2024 11:25:07 AM # 1.0.0.1119
