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.. Three blackbirds etch their signature across a sapphire shore swollen with sunlight. She quills her own song in the snow with tail feathers and broken ink. .. Prompted by toads. The word group I worked up was: swollen … Continue reading
.. we quench our thirst with feathered spell, and poems fall like early flowers. ..
.. We say it quietly – a low, large hum. We breathe it in, looking around this overcrowded table. Prime rib and turkey and mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes and green beans and orange fluff. We laugh ourselves loose and … Continue reading
.. When I leave this place, give me wildflowers and feathers and fire. Song. Words spilled out, and some part of me scattered by the sea. We are all but shine specs, souls shedding dust and waiting. .. … Continue reading