In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

115 Forgotten As long as songbirds call back and forth across the morning stillness, as if the sun came pouring from their trembling throats in streams of spoken light, the day will come. And we will enter, although our hearts lie tangled deep in beds of grief. All night, horned owls haunted the empty edge of sky— until their endless echo marked our lives. Between the tallest reach of pine and cloud, swallows glide in overlapping circles, the way a mind revolves around a wound too deep to heal. Rising from this sleepless swirl, we walk onto the dampened earth, to bury memories of things no bird can see. ...

Share