First Vision Believe that granite is soluble, that prickly pear yearns for skin and teeth. Believe chaparral blooms in the brain when rain wears
I can still hear the loud moan in my grandfather’s kitchen, where the woodstove was open for the failing fire’s warmth, and on the
I preach to myself on Red Hill Road that I’ve had it all, all I could hope for: the older and the younger Cambridge;