MARYN TERRA ART

The elephants may be leaving soon; they told my only daughter. And if she could, she would walk away with them. So then I would follow...

All things turn into ash and dust, all things crumble away; there’s a desert growing in my mind, where all this dust and sand is...

This autumn child’s mountain lungs open to the morning chill, clear as when these cold peaks still were growing; her mountain bones are...

I am the dancing winter wind, I am the winter moon, I am the bare and bony branches reaching skyward to the stars. I cannot find the...

My thought do dance like happy birds flitting around just to soak in all the very last of autumn’s light. The days will grow much colder...

I wanted to write my sorrows down, but then the fourth of four ballpoint pens I placed on the shelf beside my bed just died. Now I’ll...

Can I fix my heart to keep up with the city? Though I could move to the seaside, and settle on the coast; where I’d nest myself in...

My soul is a bird trapped inside this ribcage; and someday, I hope that it will fly free, deep into the blue sky. The great blue sky,...

These trees are surging skyward, flowing with all the grace and strength of the earth’s greatest rivers, only more slowly, quietly,...

Let’s plot the geography of the sky and map cloudmasses and great rivers of wind; we can calculate altitudes and depths and triangulate...

My mind is full of half-thoughts drifting in and out of the corners of my vision like seeds that gave up partway into germination. In a...

If these pages keep flipping in the wind Will the sky remember what they say? Just words on a page Just a cat in a box Just a song in my...