One day, she said, looking up at me while planting parsley on her little patch…
I return to the house— palms anointed by intention, to steady its posture, to lead…
A cockle hinge, a two-faced rock, speckled stones, bisected mussel shells shadowing the sky, sand-sculpted…
… the heart of the lyric essay is not reality, not nature, but the music…
A manifold of frequency, woven from every mind that has ever parsed the world’s hidden…
After five years, the Hyacinth Review will be put on an indefinite hiatus. As many…