By Paul Tyler

Wind-lapped, slight

licks of green

weave into

dry fluted reeds

and thick water;

rock, just chip

and silt, slipped

through with root-curls

Finding us tangled

here in lines

dancing sun-revealed

you must have looked until

seeing was animal

You remade yourself

into folds of light

to see motion

quake from granite

our grass-husk bodies,

slips of water

and shivered lines

wavering in their names.

*   *   *   *   *

Patricia Brown was born in Endicott NY, and studied Studio Art at Binghamton University where she also taught drawing and painting as adjunct faculty. She has exhibited her work at universities and galleries in new York State and Pennsylvania. She currently lives and works in Baltimore.

Paul Tyler's poems have appeared in Canadian and American journals including Arc, Canadian Literature and the Malahat Review. Though from Vancouver Island, he has also lived and worked in the Yukon, England, and Baltimore. He currently lives in Ottawa.