Post # 47 My grandmother drove a Singer with her church going hands. Ruby May’s chaliced hands could hold…
Post # 46 2013 The American Ex-Pat came from California sat in the library in the children’s area, held…
Post # 45 2013 Why doesn’t he come home? I’ve cooked him dinner, rack of lamb, buttered almonds with…
Post # 43 2013 When I read Sharon Old’s Pulitzer and T.S. Eliot winning collection Stag’s Leap I think,…
Post # 39 2013 Sinead Morrisey has won the T.S. Eliot award for Paralax. The book opens diaristically. The…
Post # 38 2013 H is for humunculous of hope, a diminutive human, historically most often associated with alchemy…
Post # 37 2013 A bat skeleton, almost entirely decomposed, on our walk through the National park this morning.…
Post # 30 2013 Re-Learn Your Alphabet for the Twenty-First Century Series. G is for Good Heart. Touch stone…
Blog Post # 29 2013 Dead deer on the side of the road today––an eerie emblem of my grandfather’s land,…
Blog Post # 28 2013 Basquiat’s notebooks: one entry printed in block letters ‘JUNK AND CIGARETTES’––the ominous words sit starkly…
