Reviewed by Angela Gregory-Dribben I imagine Anna Scotti observing from within a snow globe without the snow but with “the sun…beating glitter from the
Reviewed by Angela Gregory-Dribben I imagine Anna Scotti observing from within a snow globe without the snow but with “the sun…beating glitter from the
Small, seven-years-old, chewed fingernails dug in, baby fat of thighs pressed into thick raised bark, I scrambled up to a crux. There in the
Like scarves that have run and bled all down the beach, rows of them under the violent sun where the dog noses its way