A collection of 31 posts
I find six strawberries / drowned in a blue Ikea bowl / abandoned
This morning / a praying mantis— / I call her Virgie— / climbed ...
Raindrops tinkle on the tin roof / like fingers on the ivory keys / of Grandma’s old piano.
Clouds swirl around. / Rain pounding down
We met at a summer dance, /
Then she was gone.
“I think they call it flying because it uses all the same muscles,” Anael says. Above, a shout, “Ready! Hup!” and a shadow sails through afternoon sunbeams.
Green is gorgeous is too soon gone, / she thought. Rockets fell toward new year’s dawn.
In the acre’s shady corner / of unremembered names
again, i was all alone / and awake / (just lying there) / when the first wave came with a strong wind