Dismal
By Poetry Issue 105
The black dog in the yard
is darkness visible.
Winter Empties Her Pockets
By Poetry Issue 105
We will be the young tufts of spring.
My shadow will lay itself down over yours, reader.
We will not cut ourselves open any longer.
Ruptures of the Numinous
By Essay Issue 103
What I lost in my exit from a fundamentalist faith movement, I found inside the closed chamber of my camera.
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