Dear Willawaw Readers, It is my honor to introduce to you the paintings of Carol Crump Bryner. I have been…
Waiting for Thunder I stopped my car once on a thin country road, stepped out and looked west. Standing near…
Dispatch re: a Pause There are two kinds of apple trees in / my neighborhood For years I would worry…
retch take the moon into your mouth. scoop it out of the sky like honey from a glass jar. roll…
Rain My son tastes rain with his fingers, lets drops ride into his palm down his wrist. He never…
Vanishing Act Who’d have thought she’d lay plastered on an asphalt death bed next to downtown high rises & the…
Poem In Which I am Late for School My seventy-one-year-old granddaddy and I hop and skip all the way to…
Wanting I’ve made a study of The smokers at the bus stop near the hospital, Visitors, uneasy in street clothes,…