Starfish
You sit alone as a painted asteroid, folded. Your name sounds like one, both floating in from the unknown. […]
You sit alone as a painted asteroid, folded. Your name sounds like one, both floating in from the unknown. […]
All writers are exiles wherever they live and their work is a lifelong journey towards the lost land.—Janet Frame Just
The real truth is that some of us don’t have facial recognition, unable to recall the goblet of a face.
We never found out where she came from, our hen. One morning she was just there, in the back yard.
Image: “Chickens!” by Marion Clarke. “Wildflowers” was written by Paul T. Corrigan for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, March 2018, and selected as the Artist’s Choice.
My father once owned a bright blue muscle car. He sold it to buy my mother a ring. I wanted