In this issue of Cider Press Review, we perseverate on generational conversations—floating between what is past, what is present, and into the liminality of
Some mornings we take fog too seriously, like a school bus strobing its route more slowly than by rote, more the pace of a
He had asked and in reply— swallowtail, joe-pye weed, balloon flower, skipper —the boy recalls a beach where his father is teaching the perfection
The grass has added tent to its vocabulary The air: shuttlecock And the lowest limbs of the crabapple: boy Published in Cider Press