"Blood is the color that mixes late September.
It tints the concrete of a late sunset mass."
In striking imagery, Robert Lashley's poem imagines a mysterious savior who offers healing to a broken urban neighborhood.
Tag: Cascadia poet
Three poems
In these three poems by an award-winning BC poet and author of seventeen books, nature has a near-magical ability to transform and inspire wonder in those who pay close attention to it.
In Praise of Not Knowing the Names of Birds
A poem by Judith Barrington:
"I cannot name the one with the scimitar beak and the mohawk
who spends all day drilling holes in tree trunks."