This winter sees the bitternings of crows the left-behind of crows unsuited for flight of crows ill-equipped for animosity of … More
In Lightfoot, Virginia Those child-bearing days That black dog and I rode them game trails out back, lights-free, blackout-drive She … More
In Lightfoot, Virginia Those child-bearing days Ally-dog and I rode the game trails out back, lights-free. She led. I followed. … More
the spiders are like young girls,fiddle-dee-dee at the maypole. there were spiders forming less than geometric webs,dangling half-hung. how the … More
how the wind lofts each pretty spider ever skyward to where,he might,I might,play among hawks,on drafts over our carcass home.
the spiders are young girlsfiddle-dee-dee at the maypoletheir skirts, their folds their pleats their smooth,but weaving less than geometric websask … More
the seashell whispers shame in my ear i shook its tenant dead. the rigging’s still at its shudder and one … More