Scattered bones
Our bones are scattered at the grave’s mouth, as when one cutteth and cleaveth wood upon the earth (Psalm 141.7) When the poplar is burl free, you can sig...
Category: Poetics
Occurrence report from the mixed woods
I can light a Red Bird match on the back of this netbook, hold it to the Monte Cristo in my teeth while reading Bronwen Wallace’s poetry, sit semi-clothed...
Sky Eagle & Sweet Peas
Two poems (and pictures) by Wendy Morton. Thank you Wendy! SKY EAGLE You fly, with sunset wings, over the lemon balm, over the mint and oregano, over the ...
Last night’s storm
There are eight windows in this room, nine with the skylight. So when you are lying in bed and a storm moves at midnight, and lightning rides through the trees ...