Author: stephen t berg

I think of a friend who eats out of sorrow,then, forgets to eat, out of grief. She sits alone in her bedroom, like a desert sparrow, like an owl in a biblical w...

Lord, the days have grown dark with smokeand the nights are lit with missiles and I will not see another moon. Have mercy. My bones are wax. My soul is ash. O G...

These trees, I do not understand. I speculate their ancient wisdom, their fame for holding, in the tight folds of their rings, tectonic shifts, memories of empi...