09/11/2026
"Names etched on
the head of a pin.
One name spanning
a bridge, another
undergoing a tunnel.
A blue name needled
into the skin.
Names of citizens,
workers, mothers,
and fathers,
The bright-eyed
daughter, the quick son.
Alphabet of names in
a green field.
Names in the small tracks of birds
Names lifted from a hat
Or balanced on
the tip of the tongue.
Names wheeled
into the dim warehouse
of memory.
So many names, there
is barely room on
the walls of the heart.”
“The Names” — Billy Collins
