Watch as it spreads and curls like a midnight lily
aching into the open air, blooming with a certain
placidity, a certain un-industrious possibility.
But this is not a world of air. This is a world where
enormous petals of watery bone and compiled time
well-up as a reminder: that what history has planted
we have grown into a black blossom, smoke and fire.
Who Killed the Clancy Children?
After a Massachusetts jury failed to convict Lindsay Clancy of strangling her three small children to death…
A Terrible Coarsening
The now-ubiquitous terms “reproductive health” and “reproductive freedom” have contributed mightily to a slaughter of the innocents…
The Stench of Corruption
The Trump family’s exploitation of every opportunity to enrich themselves demoralizes me, as I’m sure it does…