Mornings I place them by the open window close to air and light freshly watered freshly changed. I unfold the sheets and eyes follow
Mornings I place them by the open window close to air and light freshly watered freshly changed. I unfold the sheets and eyes follow
I’ve heard there’s no love in the world but even the pilot fish passes down to her children the knack of living close to
The body jackknifes—buckles like a dark road and each thought unfolds: a relaxing piece of crumpled foil. The trees are fastidious detectives late for
