Every day I milk a large, verbose cow. There was a little song my kids learned when they were preschoolers: “What can I give to the king, what can I give to the one who has everything.” It’s got a contagious earworm of a tune and a sentiment that gets under my skin anytime ...
We all got in the car -the kids and I; he was in Baltimore to see the baby. We left Florida after 8, past painted signs calling out summertime peaches, and the boys pointed out a beaver dam built up in a swamp outside of Folkston, right there, right next to the road. Tufts of cotton caught in ...
Brainspotting draft- Tia Levings, 2015 That room was a mess. So full of broken furniture that I couldn’t see the floor, with no pathway to walk. Tchotchkies, curios, knick knacks, dust beams vaguely illumined by sun, no hope of ever crossing the room, of cleaning the window pane ...
Leftover Apple Dumplings, it turns out, make a good breakfast. Heated warm cinnamon caramel sauce melting in hot tea, melting in my mouth, pomegranate tang. My scratch crust, it turns out, came out perfection. Salted crisp flakes holding crunchy exoskeleton, hug pillowed soft apple ...
Reflections on water migrate, I think change, even if the light is constant. Silver patches broken only by the breeze, by Anhinga, the snake bird; slender neck’s reaching strokes. My skin, bare shoulders, feels translucent, loose wild hair ideas brought me here. On the far shore I see, a ...
Number one, an old man, heavyset, in a sleeveless sweatshirt, standing on his stoop at 6:15 am, looking at the blue light of his phone, not out to get the newspaper, standing there maybe out of habit. Number two, the busy birds, too many to count, rebounding high pitched ...