This poem appears in the Fall 2011 issue of Modern Age. To subscribe now, go here.   The moon’s margin, like a mark in chalk, incises the sky-scape— circumscribed silver. Note carefully. Captive though it seems, Moonlight’s mobile. The margin bleeds. The sky’s piebald, peppered with powder that’s bold and boundless. It bathes the … Continue reading After Coleridge’s Fragment No. 6