Review by Shannon Vare Christin “Sometimes I make a poem of my life” is the core mantra embodied in this poetry collection, by Barbara
Walk the shore in this gleam with me, waked by the young March wind tantalizing on our necks, the estuary’s revealed grasses green and
Any other month, you’d call the cops, report this noise from that backyard party way out of hand. The buck and toss of
A blue suited Magritte man shuffles red cards on a white table. He sits in the shade of a green umbrella with a silver