Jennifer Militello

And the loveliness goes hand in hand with the graveyard, if only at this time of year. No airplane or insects or afterthought. No place for things to happen.Out of all the pigeons that rise up at once, the one becomes a lantern. The only lanterns are [...]

Emptiness never was my mother. I only called it home with wishing, when long ago the bread ran out, and my animals could no longer share their house with childhood. Now, from far inside lightning, I finally see. There's nothing to be made of this pla [...]

Whether the severe theater of your shadow breaks into ravens or is broken into crows. Whether morning makes a list of last night's weapons, or if warmth is any kind of reminder. Whether the night is a wide car worth driving. Whether angry water makes [...]