Words linger unsaid; no compulsion to fill space. They are seen in eyes, the way the head leans to one side; half-breaths han...

Modest lunchbox. Preferably tartan. Brodie or MacGregor. No thermos necessary. Replacement for brown bag. Bologna and...

I see your head poke from a cloud of leaves; your sap-stained legs dangle beneath a limb. Some days you climb further, to the...

I balk at gestation, swallow stagnant, rear back, eyes wild as a startled horse. Maybe I'm hungry, or just thirsty, or...