by Sabina Khan-Ibarra | Oct 29, 2020 | Poetry
Mama, what is the earth if there is no green left? banana slugs crawl out from inside of a centuries-old fire-scarred redwood tree trunk she is erect in these fire cavities, where fires rose once before, echoes of thundering crashes can be heard through the valley...
by Sabina Khan-Ibarra | Oct 13, 2020 | Poetry
On the 157th night of coviding, the sapphire white lightning cracks the ocean waves ecstatic, you search for the chant of rain pellets that often accompanies the tempest- but there is none, this storm, she dances alone. Her talon reaches across the parched cobalt sky....
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