Author: admin

(Marriage of Figaro, Act 2) Give up your song of hopeless hope stop leaning on your escritoire life bubbles in rococo ways that wink at your disconsolate sighs a quick disguise or clever clue will change the key, beguile bleak...

Truth is a story we tell ourselves, a set of beans we sell the cow for, and then walk proudly home from the deal only to be slapped by that dear old mother we call the real. “You did what? You got...

1. —I’m done with war, that’s my point. 2. You ain’t better than the guy you’re killin’. 3. Five tours, not hit once. What is that? 4. If I’d followed you guys, been middle class, I would’ve...

You know it’s just that Just that Just that You know it’s just that Just that My mind is going All the time Just that

In America, the scaffolding is always up. It’s never done, completed, this America. It’s an accident happening now, killing too many. It’s a work in progress. It’s like that bad thing you did that you always wished you could...

When you consider a pitch to end all pitches, a pitch for angels some say, for what materializes in the dusty corners of your apartment, a pitch as delicate as Shantung Silk carried across ocean in satchels underneath the ruby...

There are bare maples and one narrow dirt road slick with fresh snow. Morning light is changing, granite to ice blue. In curling chimney smoke there is no hint winter might be less harsh, or that spring will arrive here...

In evergreens the Saw Whet will roost near eye level close to the trunk. The size of a robin, it is hard to find in any Northeastern forest. Nocturnal, it will feast on large insects, mice, shrews, voles, even young squirrels....

Just beyond the outskirts of New York’s State capital, a night rain began to tap The roof, the windows, and The hen house out back in the yard. I returned from the bathroom, stepping Softly over wide-planked wood floors, Looking...

An Old Woman Cooking Eggs Diego Valazquez  The boy waits, ladle in hand, his gaze fastened to two eggs poaching in the old woman’s red clay bowl, but she isn’t doling out anything, her gaze roaming past what can easily be seen,...

The sounds of one species’ extinction reverberate, heard more sharply by all those who have relied upon it. But now imagine an un-extinction — a return from silence. Imagine who was first to discover a dawn redwood growing tall...