Can You Hear the Whistle? It’s the sound you hear when the kettle starts to sing or the deep desire…
Good Enough The proud mother, behind the child’s painting, urged blood red for the seesaw. The little girl stopped– good…
Full English Breakfast is our waking to the wind biting broken teeth into black clouds, rafters, drafts, handfuls of wake-up…
It’s not impolite to stare at a tree Even a tree winter naked. A tree that didn’t glory in spare,…
Early Morning: March Past porchlight, the barn sleeps still, huddled beneath the snow-bound trees, while a worm moon of oriental…
Nested Blizzard Books a la Hedi Kyle. Papers: Shizen, paste, origami, chiyogami, decorative. 6”x 20”.
Welcome to Our Hill Sandals are fine: it’s a mild, 10-minute climb. From the top, looking west, you’ll see fields…
Fine China My parents’ wedding china was Honiton Green— gifted by my grandparents, dainty Honiton Green. Delicate porcelain by appointment…
Ghazal: Earth: Hear, Here --after Ronald Johnson (EarthEarthEarth) and thinking of Kirschen, Russolo, and Schafer Sound is personal. A lonely…
Postcard from March I write to you amidst a great thaw—not quite the advent of spring, not yet quitting winter.…