Monthly Archives: April, 2011

Fiction

Once, a few years ago – I think I was around eight at the time – I was in this foster home and the woman there – Barb was her name – promised to read me the entire set of…

Poetry

You have trained your restless haunches for eight months now, within me, growing by skull and brow, ribs and toes—simple kicks and I contain the world. An oak tree’s tangled loin inhales, a scratch of breath drawn over bark and…