The Spirit of Detroit
I.The sun shines on the Thinker, in the morning, outside the marblemuseum, the Detroit Institute of
The Spirit of Detroit Read More »
I.The sun shines on the Thinker, in the morning, outside the marblemuseum, the Detroit Institute of
The Spirit of Detroit Read More »
Here is a tree,an old green-shadowedpost oak trunking out at angleshe ponderedfor years.Here is the anchorite
The Anchorite’s Album Read More »
There’s a man that I see everyday,who indeed casts shadows upon the ground.He carefully chooses the
Mother, born in Upstate New York, sang Edith Piaf’s La Vie en Rose. Giacometti’s sculptures, like
1947, THE YEAR I ENTERED THE WORLD Read More »
The scene: you, somewhere me, wishing you wellsmall relationshipssmall like clipped threadssmalllike unsent textssmall like forgettingI’ve