Archive by Author

LAMBING by George Kalamaras

Time was too long each winter. Each spring
death clung to our tongue. Just below
it milled failure and success: lambing seasons
that arrived to survive, the job
that finally paid, the art of making love
even when we felt less than whole…

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LETTER TO PHIL FROM MANITOU SPRINGS by George Kalamaras

Did Darwin name the world, or did you, Phil, in creating him for us?  I swear a Galápagos tortoise inhabits my sleep.  A dream broth.  A cup of Genmaicha tea containing roasted grains of brown rice.  It lays its eggs across the coral reef of my brain.  Blonde.  Blind.  Without fish-mouth or salt.

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