Excerpt: 'The Correspondence Artist' by Barbara Browning
Men went for my body and I resented it – like all women, I wanted to be loved for myself – not just for my body.
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If at his counsel I should turn aside Into that ominous tract which, all agree, Hides the Dark Tower…
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When Venice and Rome keep their new jubilee,
When your flag takes all heaven for its white, green, and red,
The tea should be strong. For a pot holding a quart, if you are going to fill it nearly to the brim, six heaped teaspoons would be about right...
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The thing about new blooms is that they tend to bleed— / Those petals birthed / hugging close / that come warmer weather are tricked into jumping away...
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I spent a good part of my childhood at home staring outside my bedroom window, following the trail of planes approaching the nearby Paris airport in the sky from my banlieue. I envied the passengers...
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