Category: about writing
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The Sighting of a Nesting Hawk as Protest
After another morning reading of such vacuous cruelty
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Far in the Old Homesteader’s Field
the elk wake me. Cold morning, early fire.As if the world should be beautiful here, now, cloud bank portending not snowbut the glaze of cow fences, my finger burn of cold. Amid the world burning, amid its razing,this moment’s abyss turns me back to naked trees in white sunlight. How can I speak this in another…

