William Conley Lowrance Poems

When I am in the water, clotted with the stars,
I start to hum—then sing—with a perverse longing
for the city. I wake up a ghost with blurred edges,
or as a distant mourner attending your wake.
...

The dirt beneath the stones is filthy & frantic.
The branch cast on the ground sweats slowly in the grass.
Static radiates from windows with a harsh hum
as cats howl—celebrating my success.
...