Hope and Memory

Old love is like a veil, part sunk in the ground, part swaying in air. One can neither wrap it around oneself nor carry it along. Its shadow wavers on the sands of time.


sepia photo of potatoes growing in a garden


Gray dirt, blue sky. The potato skins had white eyes.

photo of a picnic bench in front of a lake

Picknick with Black Bees

How is it, to be afraid, to be unafraid,
to be a nobody beneath a tempest.