At my friend’s bonfire on a chilly Southwestern night, a blond woman in Birkenstocks approached me and said that her name was Singing Humyn.
Memories are like Asian pears. Store them cold and they will keep.
She climbed shivering out of the river. The Taigan smeared its nose on her shin. Soily fish. Down on the rug, massaging its
On the nights my father brings home a new howl my mother prepares a feast and adorns a whalebone corset like a rib carved from the moon. On these nights I love my family because we are together and in this way I have come to worship the wolf.
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Motherhood slept astonished as astronomers wept so-so-ago with this sort of blow. This sort of ovary, yo, the story being if thrown into something sombrous, spokes-of-light, it
Someone is in trouble! Should I be running toward danger?
I realized that my son’s vocabulary, though impressive, would not help much with anything he was likely to encounter in everyday life, now or in the future.
Flying is dangerous, Lydia. I don't want to die today, do you?
I guess not.
Another family story. I can’t get away from it. As Easter approaches, I find myself thinking about one of my aunts who, when it came to transportation, had only known the transportations of
When we consume ourselves, of course / we think no one cares enough to watch.
I'm just like everyone else... A person drinking coffee...
When I was fifteen, I started receiving letters from Division I baseball coaches about the possibility of joining them on such and such Elysian Field and helping the squad reach its goal, which
I trace the windup with my elbow, my arm like a wing
unfurling, red lace licking off my feathertips.
