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 Helena Fools I live on his horizon, roughly75.5 miles from eastern Madisonto my Milwaukee locationnow that he’s bought the highestpowered binoculars on the marketthere are times when he could bewatching me had those expensivelenses been pointed in the rightdirection instead of witnessingconstellations’ perpetuallypummelling down innocent,independently falling stars he tends…