In Chicago, and its laughing skirt of cornfields the dryness like the bone-flesh of a desert is running under the long, lean ripples of
I dream of stalks, my brother Michael getting lost between, on a weekend trip to the Fornier’s in an unknown town in New Hampshire.
for Steven Of shagbark hickory, or pignut mockernut, bitternut, and all the other hard choices that bring us beauty leaving and the kind of