Flowers like credit card offers. Petals pulled away like eyelids from bulbs. I can’t even watch your plot. Published in Cider Press Review,
I’ve seen these two before, or so I’d like to think, little buddhas hunched up on a maple branch waiting out the weather, today’s
The images are like old friends I no longer have enough in common with. “Three-sweatered like a crusted pine,” “The fisherman scent of imagined