'He pops around in his spare time to bring me something celestial to put in one of my poems - an angel's feather in a Jiffy bag, a clutch...

Long ago, it must be long ago, I have a photograph. The crevasse- wringled The winds of it. Died with it. There. Years ago, so much...

They waited. Shoulder to shoulder they sat on the front porch plucking freshly thorned briers from their skin. Born eleven months apart,...

the best rose gardens i will never invite you again to the gazebo of my heart so stand outside the gate of my heart looking mournfully in...