Post Masonry – Style 2

Michael’s Angel

I was nine and a half years old that summer and most of it passed…

There’s Fennel for You, and Columbines

-after a photograph of Alexus, 2003

Visiting Spirits

At the shore, I am called upon by two women, rivulets of their presence run…

This Very Night

Tom looked up at the white plenum tiles of the examining room as a nurse…

The Day I Remembered My Soul

When I was 24, I killed myself. I put it that bluntly because it was…

How Would You Grieve Me

One day, she said, looking up at me while planting parsley on her little patch…

Beneath Grandmother’s Sunflower Field

I return to the house— palms anointed by intention, to steady its posture, to lead…

What I Took From The Tideline

A cockle hinge, a two-faced rock, speckled stones, bisected mussel shells shadowing the sky, sand-sculpted…

The Hinges on the Barn Door are Singing Again: On the Lyric Essay

… the heart of the lyric essay is not reality, not nature, but the music…

The Law Of Resonance And Condensed Milk

A manifold of frequency, woven from every mind that has ever parsed the world’s hidden…

Flowery Meadow

The End Of The Hyacinth Review

After five years, the Hyacinth Review will be put on an indefinite hiatus. As many…