the courtyard the space in the middle of the block between architecture inaccessible but through buildings or the sky it has its own weather a garden where wind works different a few trees reach for the fragment of sky through the barren cold they grow heavy encased in ice doves coo in courtyards tender notes of morning they dont teem like pigeons they choose ledges and viney walls to call home with less stigma on their names
why i am a nomad: