A canoe, turned, turns to siege ladder in the branches of a river bank. Branches like the spearmen of ground’s castle wall, while honeysuckle maidens, fair, hang their silks from tower windows in a kingdom so shrunk it fights only for a steady foot in the flowers. To not be trampled by size 11s, or … Continue reading Moat
An ungreased swing singing dunes of cloud across a blue sky; it’s the common line. Our differences lie in the songs we don’t sing; a measure of rust on the chains that hold us. Or that some of us hold the chains. Like how all five senses hold the railing at Niagara. And like, when … Continue reading Any Playground In America