Tag Archives: Clyde Kessler

Marshall Tealbrome

I woke a copperhead stretching the sun near a goat-rue sprout on a shale bank. It moved as if some ice still wrinkled its spine. Winter took its face for rocks. I kept my side of a gully, the snake … Continue reading

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Creation

This morning I will paint a room in a cave, suspend a stalagmite midair, and twirl it so the paint is splattering starlight under a rock. I can watch red constellations storming limestone, whispering their love. It’s January’s brittle heaven … Continue reading

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Staying Home

A dead fight sings a dog, its growl ransacked like gold. A dead mansion looks real rich, coaxed against the sky. I’m fighting for no other world. Walk this ridge, you’ll find me planting some yarrow and mint, to fool … Continue reading

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