Author: admin

striding unbroken on the fickle sand of need, beyond the crash and gnaw of arrogant waves, untouched by their unbalancing roar               in the last glow of day               her mauve and gold chiffon molded and streaming  ...

Consider the hand      how it collects what is precipitate enough to be carried down from the heart. Its text accumulates grain by grain old hate held love’s    yellow ribbon pain        forgiven in a            fair-wind red...

Rain flays the gutters.     God’s hymn soddens pockets, the hunger lining our shoes. Rank wind upends the market news. The bank stays closed. The alphabet soup has no vowels; grim disease haunts the luncheon bowls.              ...

its clothes, turns away like a shy teenager who has never done this before, letting a small shrug of warmth slip off a shoulder. But we know better, the day and I; we have loved riotously, reveled in prodigality – pink fairy...

Stopped once more at Security, he grins, throws up his hands, steps through the scanner again. Yes, he’s packing metal, but it’s in him. He’s unarmed, now, no longer a killer. He gave up his weapons—his M-16, grenades, handgun,...

new take on an old song— jazz singer K. J. Denhert taking “Help” four notches down from the manic chase scene to a slow tempo plea drummer Ray Brown’s combo sapping jaunt from FDR’s campaign song “Happy Days Are Here Again” “The...

Who can blame the bull? He’s used to open range. When he stamps his hoof, the weak scatter. His bellow splits mountains. He cannot help swinging his head to glare at this cage. He cannot help the sweep of his lethal horns. Why...

First, a definition of terms—a million New Yorkers concrete enough, though how this number was arrived at perhaps questionable, based on a survey, how many boxes checked “no religion”—15% nationwide, extrapolating to the city’s...

Difficult to know whether Jennifer was ever my mother’s friend, but my mother couldn’t bring herself to say she wasn’t. Strands of mousey brown hair in a perfect pixie cut resting on a starling’s frame; she still sends me...

Here in the foothills rise of wild blackberry from shale creek beds roadsides ruffled in tiger lilies cast beer bottles and arrow heads corn a knit of pearl rows feathered leaves reflect shards of sun lush and cool as clover...