Sprung Slick new leaves and sticky blossoms scattered, a world that aches to be born, tremor of birth pangs, of wind drawing down t...

Agoraphobia                                                                                                                              ...

WHAT IF WE DID THAT? What if we did that — swooped low over lawns and skimmed for our dinner the way a swallow scoops insects f...

FOUR POEMS BY KAREN HAVNAER STREET OF THE DEVIL WINS Power glimmers on the skyline from the windows of the First Bank Buildin...

Entwined I am the wind. Moving air about more out of boredom, really, I despise inactivity. I am the earth. In...