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Four days past Christmas and the rains have come. / From my cavern of envy, I present to you Rant # 42.

When forty-four summers have touched your face / And sown long furrows beside your eyes

On the day I proposed I first sat in silence / hoping words would rise from the garden paths

for my grandmother, Miriam Lindsey Levering (1913-1991) Blue light a nimbus from the TV, she’s listeningto the darkness delivering news…

—for Kathleen Kelly Outside the meeting, the usual mutter:                wordword wordword word wordity…

FJ Poetry: "It's possible of course to fall in love each morning..."

Excerpt from Target Practice at the Beach: Sometimes there’s no symbol, only comic relief. Consider how, for a four year old…

Friends Journal poetry: "Sometimes there’s no symbol, only comic relief..."

Three stories and a vision of recovering joy.