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 Laura Schulkind August nights we seek dark meadows to lie entwined, light show above us. Still surprised each time by the hush of these fireworks arcing across sky. Think not of their fire but ours on this earthy bed hurtling us through space. August finds us here beneath rain…
by Laura Schulkind I. My father could translate anything into Morse code. As a child, I never considered why. It is what fathers did. And I would demand translation of the ridiculous— Milk the fat cow. Cock-a-doodle-doo. Anything to make him laugh, easy in himself. That is what daughters did….
by Laura Schulkind Two towns in the California desert, settled by those who settle deserts. Those with nothing left to lose. Those with everything to lose. Squeezing hope from stone. Digging, digging to the source of dreams. In one, growers imagined palm fronds whispering at night. Traveled to Arabia for…