Lisa Russ Spaar

Four Poems, by Lisa Russ Spaar

Behind the Discount City Pelucid, limpid, scarified in tinsel flitch, a drove of damsel flies roves the standing ditch glancing…

As recently as May, Bernadette had dressed up in white with all of us other girls on Canal Crest…

Violet Madrigal No bigger than horse-flies, the lawns smalt with them, each tri-heart bloom a giant’s head afloat a thread…

“I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh: it is…