Reading Tracey Knapp

  TO THE NEW MOON   Come night. Come sirens and midnight babies born in the backseats of taxicabs. Come moon. You crazy weeping alcoholic, quit drinking yourself into nothingness. Someone’s trumpet has gone missing tonight. Someone is looking for you,...

In a Field, The Absence of Field

  or heart—like breathing, you enter waist-high grasses, the tan of prairie dog, fern, wild lily, & the wind takes you up into itself, your body curves & sways with the grasses, canvas, Magritte of the field & passing. How you ended up here,...