I forgot the first line – it was strong and taut – strung between two trees – covered in clothespins and, at times, birds – a bad idea perhaps to hang a line near birds – envision an empty white shirt with the wind shaping it with wind’s breath – making sense of clothes – … Continue reading First Line
by Carol Ellis →

Two early morning snails curl together breathing the end. Their escape from wet grass become impossible they drown around their shells touch with the ground of their voices flooded saying hold me this one last time we leave together not alone our shells beautiful ready to be emptied of who we were come closer while … Continue reading Garden Snails and Bird
by Carol Ellis →