Blackbirds in a Parking Lot, Southern California
Issue #47
Winter 1988
How little they ask of the stale winds of traffic— even of the picked-over plots of dirt, the pyracanthas whose sun-red berries will not reappear for months. And so they range on the crust of faith at the edge of...
Purchase an archive subscription to see the rest of this article.
Purchase an archive subscription to see the rest of this article.
