by Ruelaine Stokes | Jun 19, 2014
We have come to open up the morning like a newspaper just like the one in the hands of the red-bearded man sitting 6 feet in front of me He sips coffee & the paper quivers words fly off the page and circle the room The front window glows with light Across the...
by Ruelaine Stokes | Jun 19, 2014
I have come to arc pebbles into the river talk with the cottonwoods holding on tight in the wind. In the distance, bruise-colored mountains scrape clouds from the sky send ropes of water down to carve trenches in the earth’s brown belly huddle in small...
by Ruelaine Stokes | Jun 19, 2014
Today, under a sudden blue sky, I knelt downIn the grass, dipped my head and saw: six slender men wrapped arounda single pistel,gold dust on the anthers,a black sailor drinking new wine,a fragrance, a hint of greeninside the yellow cup,a small, light-eating...