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Katerina Canyon
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My poems die at the root at stem and bloom. I could carry them to mass on tops of wreaths and sing funeral lullabies. My memories circle...
Featured Posts
Googling My Way to Hypochondria
A Motherless Mother's Day
Recent Posts
Open Call for Submissions
It's Poetry Month and I'm Blocked!
Overwhelmed by the Love
The Screaming Boy in the Closet
Free Verse or Traditional Forms
Haiku: The Next Big Little Thing in Poetry
Involuntary Endurance
Googling My Way to Hypochondria
A Motherless Mother's Day
Small Bear to Great Bear
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