A BACKYARD IN THE MIDWEST
Grass is wordless here Fruit trees and saplings barely outlive [...]
Grass is wordless here Fruit trees and saplings barely outlive [...]
A leafless limb drops at the feet of a hiker [...]
The stick man I draw every morning has a big [...]
Think of the summer of Nineteen Fifty, of the [...]
For those who instantly knew what was clear to everyone [...]
In cross currents of early morning a wide brown leaf [...]
The landscaper no one remembers intended it to be an [...]