Life List
My friend the scholar-birdwatcher is dying, after a quiet regular life of Milton and birds, and if I could imagine […]
My friend the scholar-birdwatcher is dying, after a quiet regular life of Milton and birds, and if I could imagine […]
I’d rather see a field of them with their arms full of snow, and maybe some wren haunting the lowest
Love, Love, Love, where are we now? Where did we begin? I think one of us wanted to name this,
Sunday morning. Spring. I wake to the sun lifting one leg over the top of the Ticor Building on Wilshire
Don’t fresh crayolas carry the day? White, red, green, blue, and black. A single row in the stiff orange box,
Tomorrow everything will be all right. I’ll come to the cemetery and bring you home. I’ll prepare for you a