I admit to having issues with my appearance/ I have compared my body to a sack of potatoes/ Even though I

For much of Cindy’s life, people she encountered in the medical world had one attribute in common:

On the edge of the witches’ well in the garden,/ angels breathe their summer spell in the garden.// A child’s

Those first creepy foreshadowings/ will occur before you reach the lodge/ or campsite or lake: little

Camouflage desires and wishes run your life/ You don’t know why the sun shines. How important is the sun

I’m sitting atop a mountain/ falling rock below me/ tipsy mountainous rock above/ I sit in my car/ penning

No way was she going to miss it this time! For five years, she had been so close to going to the fair, but

On the muddy green Illinois River my mind/ sinks down while a water bottle bobs up.// My anxious heart

-Yesterday-// We found it in the garage,/ on a grease-stained shelf,/ tap-tap-tapped it into place,/ raised

It seems like we are laughing one minute/ then I look up & see that her eyes look bruised/ though I can’t

Stay, continue/ Weary or smart/ Change pocket/ Lint for Art/ Smudged faces/ For clarity/ In the wishing

Uncertainty rules/ like never before,/ the new normal/ is the abnormal,/ the unheard-of state/ of affairs is

The tune touched/ every cell of my body,/ flowed through my veins;/ a song I played/ amid my sleepless

At a time when wanderlust/ Has taken over every one/ There are the few who/ Do not, can not, will not

Walking into his house is like walking into a graveyard. It’s as if everything has been preserved in time, a burial

The well looks simple enough, stones stacked/ in an oblong, imperfect circle with only/ mud turned dirt and

A lone mourner stands at the end of a pier./ He opens a care worn envelope – strands of dark hair whip

Children played “I spy with my little eye”/ but none saw the train punch the bus.// Side panels punctured

I don't sew, but I have visions, the woman said,/ on her way to a sewing circle, in her small town.// I saw

A dumber bird never crashed/ into clear glass, my heart,/ long shed of feathers, a dead/ thing’s milk,