Poetry by John Copley Alter: ‘In the proximity / of other gods—other sutras— / we muttered our creed—you // pecking / away at your manual typewriter— / carbon copies of personal letters / home—to the diaspora—we // noodling on the keyboard of happiness’

Poetry by John Copley Alter: ‘a blue heron meditates on water / Between his still rapture and this place you / and I are more than tourists’

A poem by John Copley Alter: ‘what was indigenous / in our childhood’s garden? became / native, mother tongue—our flora— / blossoming…’

Six poems by John Copley Alter: ‘Three ages ago you were / wrestling with mortality, my brother. / Today you are open in my mind like / a score of music, a keyboard, waiting.’