I heard Beck's song "Lost Cause" this week, off Sea Change , and it threw me back to my twenties.  It's fair to say...

Genes by Sharon Dunn My eleven year son wants to fish, he owns two rods, one saltwater, one freshwater. He loves knives, Bowie knives, Swi...

Fishing in the Keep of Silence by Linda Gregg There is a hush now while the hills rise up and God is going to sleep. He trusts the ship ...

The Country by Billy Collins I wondered about you when you told me never to leave a box of wooden, strike-anywhere matches lying around ...

The year before we married, Tim and I lived in the attic apartment of an old Victorian home.  On the first floor of that house, a woman I n...

In Spite of Everything, the Stars by Edward Hirsch Like a stunned piano, like a bucket of fresh milk flung into the air or a dozen fists...

The Lives of the Heart by Jane Hirshfield Are ligneous, muscular, chemical. Wear birch-colored feathers, green tunnels of horse-tail reed. ...