Archive

It’s Sarah’s old-bone incredulitywrecked by the coos of borne-out prophecy. It’s Jacob learning that his son’s not dead,the brothers scrubbed of blood they long thought shed. It’s Miriam’s, Deborah’s,...

The clouds are fused with amber fireAs vultures climb a dirgy gyre,Babel building with each bird,Glutted on the primal Word.Later one lights on my head,Its talons tight, its wings...

The sky pools red this Hallowtide.We enter, ease into a pew,And whisper prayers for those who died,For relatives she never knew. They’re my lost souls. She wears all blackFor...