Morning begins somewhere between the dream and the cup, the wide-coloured sky of unnameable blue and impossible clouds. These and the clear definition of tree and branch and houses echoed in the cool flat of the water. I don’t know the names of all the morning...
I’ve begun to write approximately a dozen blog posts in the past weeks. Most recently I wanted to share my deep delight at being able to write with my peers for six straight days. Skilled, perceptive, honest, and supportive critiquers are hard to find. I wanted to...
Steady rain silvers the green river. The parched earth opens like a lover. A text I received a couple of weeks ago was to my worry like this rain is to the land. We worry that food will become scarce, that terror will keep us in lockdown, that we will burn in our...
The rain began in the night with a gentle patter; drip, dripping like a forgotten faucet. Paris is closed, cars washed from the streets and the Louvre floats in a rippling lake. In Texas, horses swim across roads and soldiers are tipped from their truck into the...
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