Category: Poetry
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She is not she if she holds still
she leaves the father eternally immersed in research, the mother who lines windowsills with silent ferns, plies them with silent care, her children too —heads out
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False start with Pullulation and Yada-yada
Another bit of experimental prosody from renown Seattle choreographer, dancer and poet Christin Call.
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Dog Walk Matins
Pam Hobart Carter brings to you an elegaic reminder of how after great pain a formal feeling comes.
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From An Old Lover
Her letter drifted across an empty sky, a night shadow dragging its feet behind a wandering cloud. Striations on the walls of arroyos mark the arid years…
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