By Thomas Page I know the voice in my head but can’t describe it well. It accompanies me wherever I read And fills in the empty silences with reflection Like a fax machine chugging along in this day and age Sitting by a summer window Thinking of the birds and the leaves swaying in the … Continue reading Alphabets: Psi
By Thomas Page Hawthorne glances at A glen, asking whether it A devil’s office. Milton and Hawthorne Seem to agree that sin is Born of a cold head. Are poems that are lost Really gone? Passing zephyr On a sunny day.