A girl was bending down to the pavement, taking her time to look and look again, it seemed as though she would fall head-first as though she were a tenant
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