Praise for a June Morning At half-dawn the male cardinal slams his beak against my bedroom window, time and again only to retreat every few minutes to trill his maleness. The mourning dove coo ooh oohs in the woods as a smooth breeze invites maple-greens to ride its flush – to suggest fresh is how […]Read more "Praise for a June Morning"
Tim Hawkins has lived and traveled widely throughout North America, Southeast Asia, Europe and Latin America, where he has worked as a journalist, technical writer and teacher in international schools. Today, he lives in his hometown of Grand Rapids, Michigan. He has published more than 100 pieces of poetry and fiction and has been nominated […]Read more "Too Long in the Tropics"
White Girls Cede to other women skin tints of caramel, taffy, and fancy maple, heady Jamaican vanilla extract in amber glass. The glow of copper wire. Oxides, raw or burnt sienna. The roughed-up walnut heartwood deepened on roofs of the Lower Ninth Ward. The songs black poets sing. Eyeball my elbows. Cabbage whitenesses, garden spawn. […]Read more "White Girls"