Penny Blake

The boy had been hollow rose Carved out from the hip bones of his mother Beautiful as a choked out sob against silk pillows Beautiful as a neck bent back swanlike to display the pulse Beautiful as an ...

And when it was done, and we were one, still Grandmother did not come...

You are not alone. Here in the cold and the dark and the emptiness between the lives of others, there are many of us. Starving, torn out from the book and falling like brittle leaves through the still...

I overcome.

Unblessed

Tonight is the Firebird festival, every spider’s chance to shine and dance and burn up the night. The sun, once soft milk light, has already slipped away...