table of contents
table of contents — poems


Sylvia sends me letters
        folded in the folds of the continuum —
she's outside of time now
        with her crystals and flames
that ring when you touch them.

Sylvia sends me letters saying
        “I was a secretary then,
but now I'm the secret.
        Please don't be sad about it
unless you have to be.”

Syliva sends me letters —
        I'm in the Killarney Bar,
in downtown Manhattan —
        Every little thing, you know,
is a part of eternity.