rajah's profile

We’ve come to say goodbye to Mary I stood on her porch, popsickle-stained and watched a man Trying to hang glide on a low rolling hill across the dirt road. His legs kicking at the sky—punishing it He helplessly hung suspended and inverted above lifeless, earth-bound wings, My uncle, in an ocean of green wheat getting smaller went out to help him. And where is the sting of death A mysterious white barn sat in the protective fold of two hills Neighbors with names of clean country people Who g...