Series: For What Comes After

Mark the Walls; I am Right Behind You

Lost in the Anticipation

And No Applause

To Lie With Grace

We are at the bedrock now.

No Apologies From the Evening

The Gnawing Work of Time Grows Easy

The Window Dictates Everything Else

To Find Your Name In Your Mother's Hand

Well Means When Meaning Well

The Descent of Sulfur to Service the Man

The Dementia of Distance

We Were Offered Crumbs in the Church of Hands

A Scar Was a Blessing of Out of Sorts

Our Map Gave Us a Land to Live in, and then Disappeared

A Valley Where to be Young; Just Touching Your Hand

Little men with rocks kicked into their mouths for weight sit at the river bottom;

Persistent Threats of Hope

The Name is Irrelevant

they will take care of us.

Who Searches Branches, Let Him Sink