32 5 4
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The nighthawk captures my imagination, with its mottled gray wing with flashes of white, like a fluttering x-ray image in flight, it has me holding my breath, waiting for it to reappear.
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4022
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Walking in the just-thereness of afternoon, Scrubbed out by the Tallahassee sun, Past the same Shocking banana trees that have been The most dramatic occurrences all year Since her move from the north, She thinks we must stop…
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4700
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It doesn't matter who goes first, the ghostor the witch. It's all a story withinthe story that never ends. The top ofa flower becomes the bottom of thesoil, something for rain to push on through allthose holes in the world. In the meantime, paper dollsroll off the presses…
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