My Soul as Roots and Branches
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I.
The bird’s nest an impressive collection of sticks, cigarette butts, and...
What Are You: Bridge
America is just another word for star being born. Little densities squeezed together under just enough pressure, the collapse of other...
For my father
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My father has no friends. He spends
all his time at work. My father
doesn’t speak...
Just The Daily Turn
A beach rose, plum red skin stretchedagainst a fog Maine sky, pushed
through spring, summer, fall all intoday. Her hip, now nearly...
