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What will we do without exile, and a long night that stares at the water?

Lillian-Yvonne Bertram

Corn repeats itself into a haze of tassels and sheaving leaves.

It’s the roll-up-your-sleeves hour, when you have to make a living.

He had looked on it a thousand times and it never failed to kill him.

If you hear your name again just say, Here I am. Maybe it’s the Lord.

Let me lie down with you and listen, let me tell you what I know.

Tanya jokes that she comes to the East Coast now only for funerals.

ursula says she’s seen everyone she loves in an apple, save herself.

Bear: You were a good ranger, walking carefully between the trees.

What I really meant to say is that I am tired. Beauty can demand so much.

The future was spread out for us to go in any direction we wanted.

Rain falls steadily, rattling down drainpipes and gurgling into gutters.

We fed our dreams inevitable sins, the kind you lie about till you grow mean.

Someone seems to have made an excellent age-specific insight.

You need to teach these cows to meditate. To lose their bodies.

We’d never had a cross word, but I’d never corrected him.

The lion was still near them, stalking. Crazed against its cautionary nature.

I live for now in the second house of having asked a favor from a friend.

You have your apron on under your coat. We’ve got each other.

The world smells brand-new crisp the way an ax cuts fire wood.

Something is wrong with that place. Someone’s still there . . .

A new Wyoming photography portfolio from Twister Marquiss

A new Wyoming photography portfolio from Twister Marquiss

The pickup trucks in this portfolio were photographed in June 2015.

Twister Marquiss

“Ki o tsukete!” she called, and he knew the words. Be careful.

Not the Olympics, the guard said. Just chuck yourself down the tube.