|
MY FATHER AT TWENTY-NINE
|
|
In the denim of dawn, he sat at his end of the kitchen table to buckle his workboots. Leaning forward, his back was a pasture of muscle as the sun broke over it. Already, this early, he carried the sky.
|
|
IN MEDIAS RES
|
|
The cardinal landed and said: There is no beginning, only the point at which you began to pay attention.
|
Bibliography
Commentary
Buy a Book
Dwaine Spieker's Page
Writers On-Line
|
|
|
Return
|
