It’s Never Just Rain
Far off. In a field, I am running toward a river. My dog flailing at my side. Camera slung around my neck; snow crunching under my boots, patches of […]
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GOOD FOOTING: A poem
At twenty below the moon comes up in blue daylight; our mattress, dense with sleeping bags and white feather pillows belies any sense of warmth-slash- comfort. (pretense):
Turn Toward What You Deeply Love
Sometimes you hear a voice through the door calling you, as fish out of water hear the waves, or a hunting falcon hears the