July was a rabid, wide-eyed creature, so much black fur and hot, wet breath. You could sense it lurking around your house long into a sleepless night, perhaps even hear the faint tapping of claws on pavement as it skulked across your driveway. August was a widow across the street. You never met her, but […]

_______________________, that lovely thing of nature, is never coming back. A cup for tears: Is there a question? (There are only so many Lazarus taxons.) So this is how it is: recycled prophetic mood a few asides flat-line fade. More poetry at Used Furniture.

Torturing Butterflies Am I the only one that’s tortured butterflies? Surely others have snapped hard fists at the flutter and crushed that humming color in palms, or caught them in a net’s billowy slumber, sweeping paths over a shaken branch. It’s like you’ve captured light or hope, some fleeting thing so rare it’s worth the […]