Poetry by Eric Stiefel
In the beginning, the world didn’t extend outside my field of view.
First snow, then new leaves. I wanted you to be the
I was in and of, from, and also so-and-such. When touched, I didn’t
what was down is also up. You were always
What should I call you? Yew, or oak, or pomegranate
seed—I could tame myself by returning to logic.
Always, always, foxglove, in between. Two
About the Poet
Eric Stiefel is a graduate of the MFA program at Washington University in St. Louis, where he also served as
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