Lessons of a Gentle Childhood
By Poetry Issue 95
Under this skylight many lost things are visible. I see the mighty black and yellow spiders in the iris beds by the old garage and feel not a shred of fear. I could husk two dozen sticky ears of sweet corn and pick two quarts of strawberries on my achy knees without whining once. I…
Read MorePray That the Creek Don’t Dry Up
By Poetry Issue 89
It’s funny how light sifts down, out of itself, ______________________________________funny How thin, erasable darkness seeps up and expands, Gauzing the underworld, ______________________everything suddenly stopped, No wind, no movement, no words, The wheel stilled, the crack to the radiant world closing in on itself. One way of putting it. ____________________Another would be it’s twilight time, Last…
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