Hard cake of the clay shore, the lake leeched back, trees tinseled with snakes. From the vantage of our dock, a moccasin beds a dead fish in the cotton of its mouth. […]

by J. Matthew Boyleston For years, my grandfather shared his garden with a rare gray fox. As he piddled about, the fox watched from the wood’s edge, in enfleshed silence, following every slow movement […]

There is the desert that is a slow wick, and the cactus and the highway defiled in waves of heat. There is the desert of this blank page where waters freeze and are released at the first light. Water and salt water. When Hugo hit these shores people fled. Houses were torn like families, trees [...]

For the Means of Grace and for the Hope of Glory With the tuft of his hind hoof, the wild colt lunges for the long felt of his wet nose— an impossible maneuver, one act of feckless grace, the taste of mulchy horse on my tongue. […]