Now with great ease, and slow,
The thumb, the finger, the strong
Delicate hand plucks the long
String it was born to know.
I keep trying to persuade my father
into a better opinion of me now that he is dead.
The assassination complex from Bush to Obama to Trump. We’re only a few days into the new decade and it’s somehow already a bigger dumpster fire than the last. On … Continue reading
Allowing the seas to recover from the outrageous assaults of commercial fishing can help heal our own wounded lives.
All stories, as they reach their end, are sad.
The rain comes; the night falls; Malone dies alone.
I count our strength,
Two and a child,
Those of us not asleep subdued to mark
How the cold creeps as the fire dies at length…