THE PAINTER | How she gathers sunlight to her face, her petal lips pearl below the turning wine of her hair. Sit down and note all of her. Sketch what you know of that summer, a vanishing particle of dreams. Stare at the canvas. Don’t despair—as th...

PALISADES The edge of continents, Escarpments high and rimmed with fog, The sea a bright field blue With endless swelling blue, Swept and swallowed endlessly By echoed caves, and hungry rocks. I come to drain myself of limits, here to look an...