One for Sorrow
A crow once gifted me pine needles tucked into a paperclip. She left it on my windowsill, right beside the […]
A crow once gifted me pine needles tucked into a paperclip. She left it on my windowsill, right beside the […]
All summer long, the pool was closed, and I swam continents, asleep. Glimpses of aqua through a fence.
As if I am in a zoo, I peer through bars of the black iron fence. Restricted by the coronavirus
Yes, armless is harmless. That’s how we want our women to be. No attachments, free from holding a job or
for Leonard Cohen, 1934–2016 A crack in everything, he told us—that’s how light gets in. And yes, he always knew
On a page a word stirs. Stirring stalks flower buds of May. May showers tease our forlorn skies,