Whiskers on dead kittens

  Beginning of November by Franz Wright   The light is winter light. You’ve already felt it before you can open your eyes, and now it’s too late to prepare yourself for this gray originless sorrow that’s filling the room. It’s not winter. The light is winter light, and you’re alone. At last you get […]


A blue iris in autumn

Praying by Mary Oliver It doesn’t have to be the blue iris, it could be weeds in a vacant lot, or a few small stones; just pay attention, then patch a few words together and don’t try to make them elaborate, this isn’t a contest but the doorway into thanks, and a silence in which […]