I will wait, said wood, and it did.
Ten years, a hundred, a thousand, a million—
It did not matter. Time was not its measure,
Not its keeper, nor its master.
Wood was trees in those first days.
And when wood sang, it was leaves,
|2014||“Mike” Test||Tyler Mills|
|1926||[yonder deadfromtheneckup graduate]||E. E. Cummings|
|2010||[without a listener]||Maxine Chernoff|
|2009||[white spring]||Lisa Olstein|
|2011||[white paper #28]||Martha Collins|
|2003||[Where do words come from?]||Vénus Khoury-Ghata|
|2016||[we fight back to control the outside]||kari edwards|
|2011||[Untitled]||J. Michael Martinez|
|2009||[Toward the empty earth] (audio only)||Osip Mandelstam|
|2009||[Time (Outside the Quincunx)] (audio only)||Jeffrey Yang|