"Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry." ~Mary Oliver
The Hide of My Tongue
Silty Water People
Old Woman with Berries in Her Lap
Slick
Sludge
Our Tents Are Small Volcanoes
Traveling with the Underground People
The Last Glacier at the End of the World
The Dead Go To Seattle
The Dead go to Seattle, linked stories
My Father's Smokehouse: Stories & Recipes
from Fishcamp
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