Psaltery & Lyre

White Flower

Further on, hills with their wayward / rolling, and below, the white clover / pulls through the greening. / Momentary holy. Moist dirt.

At midday the light is the memory / of light—clipped grass, limbs of trees, your face, / all rinsed in a mild glow.

There won't be / an answer / I understand.

One mark of many powerful stories of conversion is the role human love plays in the journey toward holiness.

We've made the difficult decision to close our doors.

Maybe, a certain white-crowned sparrow / carries our mother’s name into the dark

Somewhere along the line, I bought the whole thing—to the point where, years later, it still casts a shadow over the life I live now.

Congratulations to all of our 2021 Pushcart Prize nominees!

Heaped like spring fleeces, like gold / dragon-hoarded, the waters wait for her will, / they wait to be laid down, like wine without vintage.