Creativity

The Historian Returning Home All the lights are on but no one is home and no one is reading meanings in the perfect illuminations. Someone has arranged shells on the mantel along with an ancestor’s …

Vines Stop sap entwining the trunk, grow forty rings, six inches thick, the vines take trees down left along long enough, limb-breaking heavy tangle hauling itself into the canopy of oak and cottonwood both. Hard …

After having watched you a while, my love, sleeping so deeply, cuddled up under the quilt (a queen in your robes of sleep gained, subdued), I feel myself wanting to write to you about my …

It was the end of November. We were very young. Just the three of us. The countryside was there, lying quiet ahead under a subtle fog that allowed us to catch a glimpse of an …