Timothy Bradford

Timothy Bradford gnaws on the big questions: should I run with my pack, or should I go it alone?  Where to find enlightenment?  What is a dead animal?  What is the spirit’s realm?  The mind falls into its quandaries, and the body, drunk with it, tags along.  These poems, roving across continents, restlessly seek to locate consciousness in the world, a universe which “opens like a tulip / or closes like a fist,” where the poet is not afraid to admit: “I forget / which.” —Eleni Sikeliano