Visitation
Even the spires of milkweed bend over in the low tumble of wind through the prairie, dry reeds tapping hollow …
Even the spires of milkweed bend over in the low tumble of wind through the prairie, dry reeds tapping hollow …
In my belly, now flat, curled a spine with indistinct tissue wrapped around its tiny bones like those of a …
It does not seem fair in all the measures of life that our heavy ways hang in expectance on these …
Even as you sit smoking weed in the room I just cleaned and leave your papers and dirty dishes on …
o’ wondrous pain, illuminating discomfort — how you have painted this earth to suit your ease, the slow swing of …
we lay here in our pod the world screams crazy past you ask, ‘What is the world?’
I write to you everyday and each night in my mind — out of sight, out of love, out of …