Laura Solomon co-edits Castagraf.





Boots made of steel

Feet of little
consequence.               

I will stomp through the forest
so that even the very
tops of the trees can hear me.

Snow will not
bury my tracks.







Eight Lines in Search of Light

Speak to me again of dormant things
on the unseen train between your sun and mine

as the real one between us lies, lays
a track of rays, speak to me again

I look at you and through you I see
you, which is only a gesture

yet who among us can see the sun
by any means other than its own light?







Trapeze

You don’t know me, but
we speak anyway —
Tomorrow, more
unpredictability & freedom

Tomorrow or the next day
                        or the day after that —
                                    Today
is an acrobat







Russian Poem

I have a red heart
& a green wall,
the other side of which
I’ve never seen.

When he is lonely
God visits
me in my itty room —
he always says the same,

“I have a green wall
& a red heart,
the other side of which
I’ve never seen.

When bored I
create & destroy
to prove I am not
a piano key.”







Antipathy

Tidy, tidy
grows the winter
heart and I
who spend my time
wasting it,
no longer
on a face
or a voice,
in rooms
sad and sane,
                        but dead on a tree,
determined to be left
unblown,
after autumn’s
red barrage,
yelling at people
all the same
and brown leaves
which grow as well
as once
green ones did.