karla k. morton: Mountain Doggerel
I open night’s window
to the long song of the river—
December 21, 2024 · 9 Comments
karla k. morton: Chow Chow
It could be a religion, this relish—
what’s left over,
fall’s last stand
before the death-breath of frost.
August 31, 2024 · 17 Comments
karla k. morton: The Next Generation
Not knowing the spring of 1980
would be the worst drought
in the history of Texas,
my father sod an entire acre.
It was my job to water.
August 5, 2024 · 5 Comments
