She watches them from the corner, chair unstable beneath her, rocking on three points. She wraps one foot around the …
Awakening. A poem by Bobby Motherwell
Have you noticed that our pace is slowing to a walk? That we hear the song the birds sing, and …
Son, I wish I knew. A poem by Bobby Motherwell
Dad, how did it get to this? Where the economy takes precedence over human life? Where ‘herd immunity’ slips from …