Nancy Kuhl

Cigarette smoke twelve miles from the ocean and the birds in the wall are beginning to escape. One by one. They always leave the box behind, the telegrams and empty envelopes. All of it flimsy and so much missing. The hoax of relic bones and the goddess of hinges are buried in the still frozen […]

This is where we start: a snowstorm, the memory of a scarf wound tightly, a stumbling trip to the car. A page is devoted to the doorway moment, collision of interior and exterior. Mother slams the door behind her. There will be other natural disasters, a tree splitting broken glass hurricane, an acre-burning fire, some […]