Anthony Kintanar Poems

The sudden can be quiet.
And it seems like all the things
In my life were pointed
At the single moment of meeting
...

And the barnacles in it.
You dwell in that world
That I glimpse
But cannot follow.
...

Sometimes love goes skin deep
As when you leaned on me
So slightly, and I leaned back,
Brushing your shoulder,
...

It is not often
When the quiet comes
To this room.
In the flurry of days
...

Here are threads for your cloth, weaver.
To garment them who are neither lilies nor swallows,
But nomads in these islands whose trees
Have become mere stumps on the ground.
...