THROUGH DIRTY GLASS BY BARBARA DANIELS
Light rises from a white bird—pigeon
at the crusted edge of a roof
Light rises from a white bird—pigeon
at the crusted edge of a roof
I run my fingers along the coarse green curtains in my bedroom window and look down at the silent form of our next door neighbor as she shuffles in the soft glow of her kitchen light.
Read MoreAnd she stood up, left her den to crawl back to herself to remember when. Moments of promised love past speak soft and fine tales of love, that still wails.
Read Morei told my son the flowers may grow all around you but that doesn’t mean you’re part of a garden so what so what so what isn’t it all so lovely walk walk walk like you know the difference between the bloom and the crop consume...
Read MoreCan you read between
the nights so you may taste
what I have tasted?