Lenore Weiss

I stood on the corner of the hospital waving for the Uber to pick me up at the curb in the snowstorm, hoping Lew was cooking his grandmother’s recipe for

I’d finished watching a movie about the military in Argentina, the dirty wars of 1976 to 1983 where nearly thirty thousand people were arrested and shoved into cars. Disappeared. Mothers

Dylan Thomas, the great Welsh poet, captured the essence of turgor pressure when he wrote, “The force that through the green fuse drives the flower / Drives my green age.”

Suddenly sprouting from dry backyards one or two, even three in late summer, pink as cotton candy or pink as face powder naked ladies along sidewalks we’re driving past brown

I see jet exhaust in the sky, a single line that stretches from one cloud to the next and wish to jump high enough so I can use it like

Light is both a particle and a wave. Two things that have the potential of becoming one or the other in the same moment depending upon circumstances. Or is it