featured photo by Veronica Schorr * * * Every Writer Has a Window Every writer has a window, but does every window have a bird? And every bird, a tree?…
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* * * Ruminate tea-stained clouds steep in today’s sky of porcelain blue weak tannic breeze bubbles with August heat robins bounce_____across the lawn _______rusty orange__breasted female___pauses crooks her head________plunges…
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WOVEN is an Entropy series and dedicated safe space for essays by persons who engage with #MeToo, sexual assault and harassment, and #DomesticViolence, as well as their intersections with mental…
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A crow has been calling in the front yard since the sun rose. It’s the beginning of November and my left breast feels heavy. I lift it and the pressure…
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* * * Choice You can sit back see what develops, only jump on the bandwagon if all goes well. If not, splay off saying I knew it wasn’t going to…
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I was eating cherries out of a jar when Denis Johnson died, my fingers sticky with the slime. Their red syrup coating my teeth, I could feel a cavity forming…
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* * * Let’s have a look around Loneliness waits in the kitchenw wears a tuxedo wwEveryone misses the roses also a triangle in her throatwwwa circle in her mouthwwand…
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* * * Yesterday, rain brushed every window white, locking us deeper inside. Today, birds mouth mats of mud. In crevices under the deck, the robin is too obvious a…
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1. Once upon a time a young girl lives her life free from the constraint of clothing. She is vulnerable, as you might expect. Perhaps even unaware of her vulnerability…
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An owl lives in the sweet gum, and tonight it has flown to our rooftop. Its calls float down to me—low and hollow—like curls of carrot peels around a bowl.…
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* * * First it was the birds, but it may as well have started in the dirt, with the bugs, or out in the fields, the pests rooting stalk-side.…
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Starlings lead me through the hills, only to vanish; sunlight shrouds itself in passing clouds, cracks of mystery, the lung-luring air of a November afternoon sucks me into a black…
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Wind Chimes with Birds Prisms of Jell-O green glass soft clang, three metal crows rest and sometimes dance in Autumn wind, permanent residents who will not decamp to a foreign…
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THE FALCON The falcon floated above the treetops On my birthday, Hovered in equilibrium Before it plunged As if air Were endless. Again it rose, And soared, and dived, Braking…
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