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Tag Archives: Keith Moul
Death, as does friendship, falls beyond us; drowning, a firm handshake, bare smile, the opaque air of two split spheres: our lives roll like dimes down a sewer. Then, no names held us, wind blew us into corners, yesterday’s news … Continue reading
The only knowledge of those woods I left with was a narrow road, and it snaked off, between the deep lake and hilltop, to someone else’s land, private property. I tended that stretch, half a mile; kept the blackberries back … Continue reading
Winter passing, I have that other chance; not the best, not even the first, but that chance still granted absent my deference toward the rose (what a gardener may call blind eye), or my unworthy neglect of its root. The … Continue reading