Location’s Everything
Call me a pessimist but one flower over each eye won’t shield ours souls from heaven. It’s just wishful […]
Call me a pessimist but one flower over each eye won’t shield ours souls from heaven. It’s just wishful […]
Once, summer meant my mother’s gardens, filled with vegetables, zinnias, faithful four-o’clocks and the fat bodies of bumblebees wedging into
The hands and feet are still alive, I guess, Or else the man calls for another sheet, Or maybe death
I asked to be left alone with you. They weren’t happy about it, but who’s cruel enough to argue with
Everyday I step out into the world, air all around me. It’s a high wire act and I’m walking