Linda Gregg. Poems

Let the tower in your city burn. Let the steps
to the shadowed building by the lake burn
even though it is made of stone. Let the lion
house burn so that the roaring and burning
...

So what if plums fall
out of the tree, to lie
squashed and decomposing
on the earth? So what if
...

Eight deer on the slope
in the summer morning mist.
The night sky blue.
Me like a mare let out to pasture.
...

All that is uncared for.
Left alone in the stillness
in that pure silence married
to the stillness of nature.
...