Bogwoman’s brewing, says my mother outfromwhom I came yesterday tumbling, meaning that the fog rolls over Jylland, intowhich her mother...
1. I wish we still took pictures of our hands and feet in the early mornings. Roused from sleep to...
His breath: two small clouds on the puddled sounds of day, our spines pressed gently into lock. The several million...
Sisal i To weave a sisal basket one’s fingers must be nimble the way they touch necks or turn pages....
“Is this love,” O’Hara wrote, “Now that the first love has finally died, Where there were no impossibilities?” After you...
I. At the edge of the world there is a suburban car service station, masked attendants waving entry to dehydrated...
After dark it is easier to see Burning Cities with ice Dancing just out of reach. Everyone is an element,...
I. Main ghar aa gayi. I’ve come home. II. My hands fall into the usual routine. Muscle memory: I am...
She wraps a t-shirt around her eyes and the budding moon wanes to a yawning black— a personal eclipse of...
How does one capture the feeling of being made to feel like a moon—cratered and whole, a silvered face, catching...