before it was a metaphor First scrape fat from skin, turn to sun what never felt light, in vitriol bathe open wounds, sear to
“While you are acting conscientiously and sincerely wishing and trying to learn the truth you cannot be wrong.” —Emma Darwin, to Charles On the
several turns down the road the maple stood leaves believing in leaves as if the world belonged to leaves and I remembered what I’d
Is to burn them all and all at once in a mountain heap the night before the rains roll-in and rot their crisp color