Fractured Peonies I became black beans boiling in a witch's kettle on an open fire I became nautilus swirling inward bird as fish in the sky when he said he loved my body implying but not me Cadaver... Continue Reading →
Our Nature Run from the rain with me not the kind that mists- cooling kisses or even reluctant drops but the kind that slams and stings awakening our bodies to wetness seeking shelter in tangling limbs under a mothering Mulberry... Continue Reading →
Poetry Breakfast 