Pale Blue Dot
byThe hierarchy of round things roots in eyes Held close, so close that blinking heaves a gale; Therefrom to lips and hips and on…
earth
View from the Edge
byAt sunset drivers hide behind the last light’s reflections off glass, faceless robots at the controls, hands always at nine and three, becoming one…
Original thrift
byMa was boiling molasses in a pan. When Laura’s kettle was full of popped corn, Ma dipped some into a large pan, poured a…