Off the road in the hacked tanglesblackberries big as thumbs hang shiningin the shade. And a creek nearby: a darkspit through we stones. And a pool like a stonesink if you knowwhere to climb for it amongthe hillside ferns, where the thrushnaps in her nest of sticks and loam. I come down from the Red Rock, lips streakedblack, fingers purple, throat cool, shirtfull of fernfingers, head full of windywhistling. It takes all… Read More