Poetry

In spring’s green ease a pair of red-tailed hawks draws slow circles high above a windy field. The male begins to plummet and rise,…

We were beginning to stir after Savasana, the corpse pose, in which one lies supine: wings of the nose, root of the tongue, spine…

A country song echoes through the warehouse, cedar and summer dust. The words unintelligible, but the tempo nostalgia, melody in the minor key of…