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Tag Archives: Heather Dorn
People don’t approve of my affair with the moon. You must have to get up with the children, they say, You must be home to cook breakfast and dinner. Some nights I don’t need sleep. I read from my bibliographies … Continue reading
As a kid I got to pick three items from the Taco Bell value menu and my mother loaded hundreds of hot sauce packets into her heavy handbag. I don’t know what they were used for, but mom was good … Continue reading
On some September days when mom said my mouth was as wide as the sky (but twice as loud) and I had to choose in-or-out, I found clear water and fish and crawdads to catch from the stream up the … Continue reading
Megan kept her hopes in a wooden chest inside her pink room. I kept mine in a diorama shoebox for a month, until I couldn’t find it. My room was a mess nothing painted pink and I’d lost most of … Continue reading
He’d hand me a page – a typed page and ask, “Is this a poem?” I’d read it: quarry rocks, smoking sticks father’s gone, measuring cremated friends into coffee cans, what’s the difference between news and tv these days? “Yes, it’s … Continue reading