Daily Archives: April 30, 2014

.. It’s the witching hour, and we’re all punch -drunk and stupid with phrase, braised, bent and spent. Rhyme and rhythm and reason have all long left the building, and the band, the Enjamb -ments, has hit the road. If … Continue reading →

It cracks open, yolk rising along a sizzled horizon and we call it morning and we call it magic and we call it magnificent, as colors braid their way through dawn’s crimson hair. We collect these fragile gifts into baskets … Continue reading →

The world rests on a tortoise, like a pearl. And that tortoise? What’s it standing on? – from Barbara Yates Young’s poem, The End … .. Shelled, and shaken, slow and steady long left behind, he’s tired. And a hare … Continue reading →

…… Stand back. Let us try the star. If I tick (broken length of slender) more rocks kill. Seems small, but this story spans the sky, everything under the sun, a sneeze of past. O, Inky kimono mire, how many … Continue reading →