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Peregrine Falcon

From the March 2024 Print Edition

now thou but stoop’st to me—Ben Jonson The falcon like a teardrop heaven criesfrom higher than the city’s tallest towerdesigned to fall precisely through clear skiesnow hurtles at two hundred miles per hourAt such a speed what keeps her flashing eyesfrom drying out her lungs from ripping . . . . Continue Reading »


From the December 2016 Print Edition

On clear cold nights when far stars speckle skies& woodsmoke goes straight up & disappearsa dozen constellations to my eyesare dull blurs when I think back through the yearsto when the angel spoke to us that nightjoined by the brilliant vast angelic choirwhich overcame our senses with such . . . . Continue Reading »