by Carol Casey The path is trodden, dusty, level.You know it will take youwhere many have gone. Step off—tangles of brambles,sometimes with blackberries,more often with little clawsthat catch on clothes and skin;and tortuous tree roots—inconvenient, sacred data unearthed—subterranean snakelets somehowsifted into snarls for feet to catch.There are stems that twine…
by D.R. James A butterfly’s flapping over Costa Rica,it’s sometimes considered, could initiatethe chain that leads to tornados in Toledo,hopping and ripping the heartfrom every-other quotidian home. Or maybe its deft stretch-and-glidecould instigate the violent Mississippi’ssurprising rise beyond its subtle, stolid realm—the dainty queen behind that vast rebellion. So I…
by D.R. James Life has been a grand migrationto where you are today! –well known wisdom I didn’t know! Otherwise,when those raggedy squadronsclamored overhead last evening— three V’s disarrayedlike frayed arrow feathers, their leaders insistent as clownswith braying horns, honkingfor plane geometry— I would have…
by D.R. James Look, I want to love this world as though it’s the last chance I’m ever going to get to be alive and know it. …