The Surface of Light
Light rises out of my wrist like a raptor above the surface searching to peel away the skin’s orange surface. […]
Light rises out of my wrist like a raptor above the surface searching to peel away the skin’s orange surface. […]
The women in my family paint their lips red in a school teacher’s correcting pen. My mother’s lips circled brightest.
He loves these make-believe moments in the morning when everyone pretends to forget the night before. His wife, June,
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They said they would come back, but they didn’t. Sometimes, their money comes, but never as much as abuela
Did these modern sculptors take a pledge to flaunt here 3-D work that’s cutting edge and spurn expected, classic forms