There, in someone’s front yard I saw a glass bowl, turned over on a hole, with a red-brown brick on top. In that airless chamber, a small swarm of desperate wasps swirled. I did nothing…
Prose, Poetry, and Art since 1956
There, in someone’s front yard I saw a glass bowl, turned over on a hole, with a red-brown brick on top. In that airless chamber, a small swarm of desperate wasps swirled. I did nothing…