Tag Archives: Lynn Wankowski

Blue swells press day from the horizon. A clenched pause foretells loss then lightning shatters the sky in a thousand white-edged pieces. Thunder fires impermanence through wood and steel through bones and foundations. Carnival mirrors pool under torrents— blurring dimensions—swallowing … Continue reading →

A statue along the road carved from wood or stone— fans archangel wings. Bald eagle, phantom seen through a driver’s side window, its granite presence could grace a cathedral portal, aerie sentinel among gargoyles and martyrs. Head feathers blazing white, … Continue reading →