David Winter’s attention to the physicality of objects and language carries an immediate and arresting gravity. “W. W. II GERMAN S.S. DIVISION SOUP SPOON, $250.00” is, in his own words, “part of a larger body of work-in-progress responding to Nazi and Ku Klux Klan artifacts displayed for sale by […]
Spring arrives at Long Gate with its green grasses. The red plums are just beginning to blossom. I grind the block of tea into powder: a pot of spring breaks apart the memory of this morning’s dream. Flower shadows flower a cross the layered doors. The gauzy curtain […]
The clouds, spread like waves across the sky, tumble into the morning fog. The star river turns. A thousand sails dance. As in a dream, my soul is carried before the Emperor of Heaven who asks politely where I will go. My journey is long, I say, and […]
The wind has stopped, the fallen flowers fallen deeply. Outside the window, their red petals, heaped like snow, the memory, after-blooming, of crab-apples—a time when spring is wounded. The wine is spent, the song finished. The jade pitcher empty. The bronze lamp flickers and dims. I cannot bear […]