It’s possible we once danced by the light of the solstice moon, runcible drunk, hunched over streetcar tracks to flatten a penny— the only
When she saw in the Sunday Stars that a B & B had opened at a sheep farm in the state of her birth,
How to believe in life everlasting. The eternal. That the dead live. That we will find them behind an opaque curtain wearing white like
Most of the soil takes in the seeds and what are left darken into the volcanic loam. One sunbeam each for the sprouts. The
