Sveta Guralnik Poems

The dirt is dry.
I want to cry.

The dirt that fell
...

Haunting yellow blossoming
Trumpet tree in the narrow lane
Ruffled petals of trumpets clustered
In a manner of fruit not flowers
...

Frail lilac
Against the pale
Veil of sky
Even heaven
...

Don't call a tree a tree
The world is full
Of grace and silent laughter
Constellations
...

I was eating strawberries
With sugar and cream
And reading from a book
About a Chinese girl
...

A poem is
A novel
Concise,
Enveloped
...