could have been raven scraping her beak against granite sparking or dipping crane stirring death from waters dumb floated mush on surface we circulate to shore gather sticks that…
Hummingbirds are flying to Mexico and out of the blue a postcard, a photographic grid of recent life—you in sunglasses, a giant cactus, children in their striped suits poolside—…
When the classroom’s somber loudspeaker voice said “our president,” was I the only one . . . surely I wasn’t the only one thinking our student body president had…