One time when I was young my father asked me to help him in the shop by sanding some wood. I began sanding the board against the grain. When my Dad barked at me for it I threw the sanding block down and never helped him again. So perhaps it’s fitting that for the past thirteen years my work has focused almost exclusively on the natural beauty of wood.
When Her Boyfriend Leaves
the dense wooden door slams shut with only a fewcentimeters of clearance from the cold tile floor,forcing a gust of frigid...
Found Poem in Christmas LetterFrom a Former Blond Bombshell
Our abilities shrink daily.Dave is on his walker.I am on oxygen.We are often cranky.
Goldenrod
I saw my...
