poet

Melissa Kwasny

by this poet

poem
The dirt road is frozen. I hear the geese first in my lungs.
	Faint hieroglyphic against the gray sky.

Then, the brutal intervention of sound.
	All that we experience is a message, he wrote.

I would like to know what it means
	if first one bird swims the channel

across the classic V, the line flutters, and