Self-Portrait I’ve fashioned profession out of crow call and graphite, blind stubbing blunt instruments against a blank white sky. Ain’t how fall you far what gets you. It’s the lines you … [Read more...]
Moon Songs: two poems by Matthew Woodman
Salving the Tidewrack How to carve a driftwood lover: Begin by conjuring contours and proportions. Find a blank that speaks promise and between from among the other tangled flotsam populating … [Read more...]