Steven Lautermilch

after Rilke Put out my eyes, I can see your face. Close me ears, I can hear your voice. Take my feet, I will not forget the way. Take my mouth, and your name will still be on my lips. Break these arms, and you will find me holding You with this heart as if it were a hand. Make my heart stop, and my . . . . Continue Reading »

You have taken away my names. Last night the loon was crying for you, one call after another, a ripple of clearest water virgin and pure, cut off from the source, a mouth of tumbled grief. The wind was looking for you. Searching the trees, scaling the tall pines and knotted salt oaks, the Spanish . . . . Continue Reading »

Alone at the edge of the sea he sets the stone in place. Always the last stone the stone that has fallen the broken stone for which there is no use. His shoulders and the hills are a community now, when he walks his shadow loses itself in the grass. Comes to a crossroads and spins till his bones . . . . Continue Reading »