The off-and-on-again blog of Ron Mohring, whose plate is almost always overfilled. CONTENTS OF THIS BLOG ARE MIGRATING (gradually) to my new blog, The Boy Who Reads in the Trees. See top post for URL.
Ron,Enjoyed the poems, especially those "panicked plosives stammering from dirt—" and "What some call theft, / I call a knack for reeling in the orphaned of this world." Thanks for sharing the link.Sandy
Thanks, Sandy! I *saw* those swallows in Alaska (Anchorage), barrelling from their cliff nests as a low plane rumbled overhead, shaking the ground and causing rocks and dirt to cascade down the hill to where we stood...
Wonderful! I love "Mud Garden"
Hey Ron: nice work. "Skin" is my favorite. I get just enough of the story to feel frightened by it: "Relax, you said. I’ll / be careful, you said." Brrrrr.
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