There’s nothing left in this frozen field. Bent cornstalks in icy mud. Nubs picked clean. All vegetable matter blanched to a ghostly
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Fermento Y es verdad que ella se cansa, sus oídos padecen ese tan mío retroceder, se angustia tras percibir un tropel de
We’ve been making our way down a trail choked by vines (wild grape and greenbrier) one season’s growth threatening to close the
I Crouched among the periwinkles you evade the panting fury of the horses and the howl of dogs in the sun. You
Crows fill the bare maples, between baroque trills and iron-crust-against-plaster croaks, they dip their heads, swipe beaks, black to cold branch: What
Ever since the flood, the long Cassandra scream. Balls of water for nine months, smashing onto concrete, roofs, battering leaves, then water
Ro leaps from one rooftop to the next on the morning of the funeral. Free. The word shimmers in his mind like
“I am not very hopeful about the Earth remaining as it was when I was a child. It’s already greatly changed. But
My older brother JJ mumbles to himself like our mom always does when she’s pissed off. “Enter Sandman” plays from the same
In the early days of motoring, when humans first cut through the garnet-bearing granitoides, potato sandstone, and Pelona grayschists of the canyon