Kim Ports Parsons: I Can’t Write a Poem with a Gun
a fox steps lightly into the yard,
and shakes off the dew from the meadow,
and cocks her head, nose quivering
March 6, 2023 · 14 Comments
Kim Ports Parsons: May the Particles of My Body Travel the Endless Conduits
When I die, lay me in the loam under the big oak
on the path through the woods, deep down in the endless
flow of talk among the trees there…
February 5, 2023 · 15 Comments
