Betsy K. Brown

This world is a homeless one. Perhaps this is why, in order to return to a house and make it a home, I first needed to tear away everything else and simply stand outside, beneath the stars. Continue Reading »

Stand on your head. You’ll see that she’s a boatWinding between the waves of wailing walls,Careening through the rush of siren-calls,A small ship on a violent ocean. SmoteBy sea-wind, still unyielding, she’s afloat,And unabashed by bitter gales and gallsShe sails through the city’s shifting . . . . Continue Reading »