Leaving Rhode Island White coral, lightless chandeliers, ship’s rigging etched in scrimshaw: last night’s wet snow weighs on the trees, keys of an old
Leaving Rhode Island White coral, lightless chandeliers, ship’s rigging etched in scrimshaw: last night’s wet snow weighs on the trees, keys of an old
Water, heating, is a different beast, a roar unlike woodland streams–unmusical, a galaxy of molecules brought to boil, screaming tiny lobsters (I imagine). We’ve
My hands glow blue in light struck from red rock. Sky-parched, I stumble, bleached by dark, bent from reading, deaf with rain. A raven’s