Philip F. Clark: Lacrimosa
Where I grew up, wakes were a sparring ground— furor was the only defense to grief. Someone had to fight the rant of all those flowers. That is how … Continue reading
June 7, 2018 · Leave a comment
Claudia Nolan: Heard at a Funeral
words were spoken, and underneath as though from distant ancestors the wail of yellow carnations impaled by long white pins on styrofoam hearts the rustling of roses an octave … Continue reading
January 9, 2018 · 2 Comments