The birds were wood and earth and neither. When the sky offered flight, you could hear them, not as often in winter
browsing archive: featuredwriting
As though the subtle limit of water were bound the echo call of the rounded room begins to move the water aside
For my daughter On the cave tour she grasped at my leg when the guide gave us darkness: seeking in displacement to
My brother and I dug for worms, our knees furrowing the farmer’s dirt, our nails blackened by its bounty. And where we
in memory of John Beecher 1953, westbound from Boston on the Lake Shore Limited, steel whining on steel through Berkshire pines,
with passion, several coquís sing, though its already past dawn meanwhile the cat considers her every step, and taking them, you can’t
Whale Shark Spots are like human fingerprints, and the plankton whorl in our palms while your mouth sieves the sea. Our backs
Tongue-Lick of Flame It’s been a hard summer, one long exhalation into the pout of heat, the backhand of drought owing its
Sevenfold Goodbye 1 Ponca We left sea level this morning, headed north on a highway gradually climbing. Now, on the brink of
Henry David was chopping firewood by the pond when a stranger approached. The man wore a broadcloth jacket and trousers and