browsing archive: featuredwriting

I want to tell what the forests were like I will have to speak in a forgotten language. –W.S. Merwin   #

My round bear-paw snowshoes, wood-framed and webbed with rawhide, buoyed me within an inch of the snow’s surface. The snow in the

The cuckoo, she’s a pretty bird She warbles as she flies She never says cuckoo Till the fourth day of July. The

The Virginia rowhouse where Vera Clarke arrives early evening is old. Pretty, but old. Older than her own apartment building in Florida,

There on the muddy flats where creek met bay, in the darkness just beyond Selander Bridge, Boni stood far from the flock.

The view from Keys Ranch road in Joshua Tree National Park is a vast one. The hillsides are freckled with heather purple

I watch the shadow puppets on the wall and the geckos crawling slowly up the balcony door looking for bugs. I can

“The highways show our indifference to death, so long as it’s someone else’s.” -Timothy Findley, Journeyman: Travels of a Writer   My

And I will show that whatever happens to anybody it may be turn’d to beautiful results, And I will show that nothing

I gave birth in a fluorescent-lit white OR at midnight. A blue surgical drape rose like a tidal wave over my head,