Separations   What is becoming of me in my—ours, (yours) when I run this and   hesitate to show window panes around the white molding. May-   be I can’t feel anything any- more in the cracks.   When (and if) I am wrong to hold some ones for you,   so to speak. To say, that I can’t show you every- some anymore … Continue reading A Poem by Nash Tomey