Poetry

The Stone Carver’s Note

To whatever home you call home— a door, locked; a mother’s place; a family, that dream state—compare When you find the big stone rock, the one bigger than all that, put your skull face to her skull face, stand Still Let, what?—God, Time, Boredom—shade your eyes Then, with night-sight watch…

Any Tree

It can be any tree that changes everything,   the boisterous sapling sprung from a ridgetop, youthful   boughs yearning toward the sun long before town stretched   its domestic tendrils into the woods, before streets were laid and   power lines strung, before the neighbors and the homes. It…

Carnage

The weasel knew their warmth in the dark, ripped throats, let drop the gangly, earnest bodies of two-week-old domer chicks we found slain in the obvious morning light, the chicken coop an aftermath, an abattoir, blood-sopping tufts of down scattered awry, forty-eight of fifty dead, the two living birds huddled…