To the Miscarried Child, Van Gogh’s “Irises” At Arles
by Mary Moore

The irises aren’t eyed, but tongued: the three bearded sepals droop, pant, loll among the splayed jade-green blades, while behind the jumble of tilted flowers, a bud like a bird’s head with two white eye spots eyes us, hybrid, half plant, half animal, like the foam-formed almost human shapes we imagine in Turner’s turbulent seas: … Continue reading To the Miscarried Child, Van Gogh’s “Irises” At Arles
by Mary Moore

Economy
by Mary Moore

Even the Mojave has plenty––dunes moon-white in moonlight, indigo space so full of stars they powder it like tunes from planet radio, prayers from Grace Cathedral, Shao Lin, Tibet. Perkins sells desert seeds, outwitting water-storing lizards whose tail-flick paths zigzag electrical blue, and sand-camouflaged mice with built-in backpacks. He’s frugal, selling a drought garden’s worth … Continue reading Economy
by Mary Moore