Praying with Fringes 02/11/2016 – Lie to me, sweet garden-mongers

Winter Promises Marge Piercy Tomatoes rosy as perfect baby’s buttocks, eggplants glossy as waxed fenders, purple neon flawless glistening peppers, pole beans fecund and fast growing as Jack’s Viagra-sped stalk, big as truck tire zinnias that mildew will never wilt, roses weighing down a bush never touched by black spot, brave little fruit trees shouldering … Continue reading Praying with Fringes 02/11/2016 – Lie to me, sweet garden-mongers

Praying with Fringes 11/05/2015 – If I stand here still stripped and bare

October nor'easter Marge Piercy Leaves rip from the trees still green as rain scuds off the ocean in broad grey scimitars of water hard as granite pebbles flung in my face. Sometimes my days are torn from the calendar, hardly touched and gone, like leaves too fresh still to fall littering sodden on the bricks. … Continue reading Praying with Fringes 11/05/2015 – If I stand here still stripped and bare