Tag Archives: Jenny Morse

Stratus

After dark falls down, specious dusks settle among the thistle—parting leaves—the marrow thin and mottled. We gather in our supple tools—the anvil collapses like an accordion. A boat floats along the currents’ flow. We eat berried jam and table wafers, … Continue reading

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Erasure

He imagined the photograph unwound when he pressed it to his lips: the linen paper spooling back to the flax seed. He opened his mouth to devour the image, colors spilling down his neck and jacket to pool at his … Continue reading

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How summer ends

we lean back                         toward                                     green mountains our hips                                     stretched open             to the sky trees             smolder                                     with months of sunlight                                       the lake cools and its lifting mists                         become low clouds like wreathed                                                 smoke.   this is how the summer ends: … Continue reading

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