by Carol Casey The August sun has almost spun the straw to gold in the large stack behind the barn. We take turns sliding down its side, whooping in the earthy smell, the scratchy stalks tickling. Not sure why I go down backward, push off so hard. I land with a thump on almost…
By Amanda Paulger She said to me once, This earth is one Great big stone Which grew life One great big stone With a heart Beating, awake. We should thank it for being alive. My grandmother preached At her kitchen table Or over the stove while She cooked breakfast, “Vote,…
By Amanda Paulger The lights lit up the sky, some vast darkness carrying the sounds of stars over the ocean like the ghostly antithetical cries of sirens, lost in the crash of waves. On the backs of those wanderers that climbed up the vast cliffs that rose up over the…