Two Poems by G.L. Ford



Photo of Yellow-rumped Warbler: NPS

Heat Death

To have found loss

promised in the promise

of all fulfillment, to have

mocked at circumstance

as well as at distant

suns, to have lit upon

the hawthorn berry’s first

tinct of red and to know

yet not to have known



The maps we drew

came under siege by

blank encroaching

white, the territory

we knew growing ever

smaller, yet rather

than send out explorers

or even one, we

huddled under what

light we could muster

and cast lots to see

to which of us it would

fall to try and fathom

the absolute oneness of

each moment in its

infinite and deplorable

succession, to which the

duty of finding out

the name of those little

birds of gray and

yellow that flitted among

the final yellow leaves


G. L. Ford was a founding member of the Ugly Duckling Presse collective and a founding editor of 6×6. His poems have appeared in The Brooklyn Review and LVNG, among others. Chapbooks of his work have been published by UDP and Cy Gist Press. His first full-length book, Sans, will be published by UDP this spring. He resides in Harlem.