Lenore Weiss

Never meant to return, which is not to say I didn’t have dreams about the redwoods with their fragrant pine needles or the Pacific Ocean. Sometimes you can appreciate a

The old woman who lived in the bottom apartment called me. Her name was Basuma.  Freckles covered her hands and arms and made her look like a ripe banana.   She pointed to a

Horseshoe prints baked into mudin two directions, one hoof forward,another backward, wonderingif birds, plants, trees, can feel my rhythmstepping along the trail,a sense of relief as though I am morecareful

I stare at the emergency button in the elevator, red and three times as large as the others, one other person collapsed against the back wall should you wish to call it

I was wearing my gray sweats and a yellow T-shirt protesting the closure of clinics, making a quick dash inside the market, low on eggs and coffee, before a 4pm

The phone keeps going to email. I stay on the line waiting to hear your voice, your message saying you’ll get back to me as soon as you can. I