A quick hello, check this out. “Hand-Picked in the Dead of Night” by W.M. Lobko pulses so clearly and intricately that they seem just like that, chosen by the light of a new moon. Take a chance and bask in the beauty of this poem, or “Snap/them off & they’re yours.”
Here’s the beginning:
A ballroom built of chalices & eagles.
You arrive as they’re changing the candles
My negotiations with their gravity wells
are intricate as a cello
I don’t know how to play
but love to touch. Oil on my fingers
I am learning unfurls a mask
across a canyon. Down in the wash,
pulse in the ash.