Michelle Saffran, originally from Detroit Michigan has lived in Vermont for most of her adult life. Drawing upon the landscape as metaphor, Saffran's home in
John Carter
Karen Fitzgerald was born and raised on a dairy farm in the Midwest. It is this early, close relationship with the natural world that informs
I gave birth in a fluorescent-lit white OR at midnight. A blue surgical drape rose like a tidal wave over my head, swallowing behind it my
There is a reservoir here, where they live now, whose kidney-shaped lobe is bifurcated by a two-lane causeway. There is a gravel lot where they park
They were born in an industrial zone, former bog-land, where the sand is stained red from all the iron in the air. Sulfuric stench on the
Graffiti on the defunct valve house says FREE THE RIVER. But the river’s not a river; it’s a creek. And water is good at getting free
They use a metal spatula to flay a palm-sized swatch of moss from a stump in the backyard. They bring it into the shower. When the
Just them and the doe and a wrecked two-door truck, the metal and her body braided. They are digging bloody honey-suckle at a forest-side— where the
bells’ first toll after prayers then the tolling space hollowed a spark of grease against seasoned cast iron it tolled of dailiness the bells tolling still
pulling into the mouth of Big Rush Run off Route 7, heading north. Hillside exposed like rockbone — a dirt path carved out of the hills