Every atom of this was made in the nuclear burn of the first stars. A handful of dried mushrooms Moss Leaves bent at every angle a tree...

The field and I found ourselves lonely and lachrymose on the lane when, on cue, a swallow from a disused red stable sliced through salty...

I never envisioned myself as the mother stopping in the drainage ditch at twilight paused by the sight of Milkweed pods cracked open,...