by Ray Sharp

We live in the one inch margins
and walk the water’s edge
exchanging private iconographies
that fly ahead on our approach
like great birds with crook’d necks
bent to the invisible weights
that shape their silhouettes
as we cannot measure our burdens
so much as draw their outlines
with willow sticks in river mud
imagining Chinese woodcuts.

Ray Sharp writes about the place he knows best, the Western Upper Peninsula of Michigan. His poems have appeared in dozens of on-line and print journals. Ray’s chapbook, Nothing Abides, was published in 2011 and his first full-length collection, Memories of When We Were Birds, will be available before the end of 2012. Ray blogs at raysharp.wordpress.com.