And so I came to be the man who hunched at the desk under the lamp for six blind months and followed the loops of cursive spiraling backward like the song of a Wood Thrush to the creek below … Continue reading →
WHEREAS, the fox would stand still blinking at the swingset’s blur among the leaves and ratcheting of chains and how by this we knew that she had mastered something of the twitch that deeply gripped her. WHEREAS, the fox would … Continue reading →