Kari Gunter-Seymour: Last Night the Chime Of Tree Frogs
Granny Woman dances
under breeze-shivering branches,
her skirts a waltz of wings,
mouth full of stories.
She has emptied her house of men.
August 16, 2021 · 5 Comments
Paul Christensen: Timbrels in the Marsh
The sky is a stoic blue, hard as a marble, with little wimpy clouds that carry nothing more than a few regrets from a dying winter. We’re here, right on the precipice of a season.
March 22, 2020 · 8 Comments
Judith A. Brice: Prolepsis of Emerald
On the calendar we see the bold square, marking the number 21 in March, marking our hope, our deep breath— 21, our emerald prolepsis, our brain’s fast synapse between withdrawal … Continue reading
March 20, 2019 · 2 Comments
Paul Christensen: The Mystery
An unwilled force drives pale shoots into the air. Something powerful underneath it all, harder than a fist, keeps making things rise, until they burst out of nothing into a … Continue reading
April 12, 2017 · Leave a comment
