Birds work all through the night
I don’t know what they do this time of night. I just hear them squawking. And they sound a little …
I don’t know what they do this time of night. I just hear them squawking. And they sound a little …
gray tree branches hover over dried-damp grass – last year’s growth – chimes ting on the steady breeze remind us …
Dusts of snow edge the earth, uneven lines mark sun-warmed pavers. With under-parts protected, statuary gather new relief, dying grasses …
we lay here in our pod the world screams crazy past you ask, ‘What is the world?’
I am not afraid of miracles, though all of my angry doubts must make you think so. I long for …
through this leafy tunnel, freed from the sun we stroll easy, trace silky air over our skin discover joy in …
hill rolls under concrete, skyscrapers, shops, trains, all that seems forever as I climb toward my hotel all that seems …
How it is that time moves in pieces that each we must note or touch or somehow move to mind …
through the fuzzy ultrasound screen it was your chin I noticed first fading in and out, scanning to your cheekbones, …
you would think as you walk along the forest ridge this time of year there could be nothing more wondrous …