Filed among “The Unreal” at Quail Bell Magazine:

I love how Quail Bell always chooses an image that’s totally different from what the author might pick. It lets the reader (and the author) view the piece a little differently.

The picture above is mine, chosen (among other reasons) for its location, which is very near the spot where I wrote the poem.


Red and cream rock
crumbles in my hand. It asks me:
               stone or sand?
but it doesn’t demand.

So friable,
the boundaries of this world.

Still we seek to speak
in names
                that are more

Thoughts? Questions? Stories to share?

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