Erin Mouré Poems
Comments about Erin Mouré
There was a cold
A line of water across the chest risen
Orthograph you cherish, a hand her
Of doubt importance
Her imbroglio the winnowing of ever
An imbroglio, ever
she does repeatedly declare
to no cold end
Admonish wit, at wit's end, where "wit" is
The cold of which
her azul gaze impart a stuttered pool
Memoria address me here (green)
Her arm or name in French says "smooth"
A wine-dark seam inside the head, this ...
Courageous lair "might prevail"
Waking up to her your "yellow coal"
Steals a its way
harm's imbrogliatic murmur
has been "said"