Bill Kimzey

Thirst Everyone knows that berries go to seed. How did this one become a pendant against my heart? We know that limestone, under pres...

Misdemeanors Out front a cafe two folding chairs sit together, a couple; a third to the side, a therapist or priest. Between them a fo...

I imagine it blue or green. I am certain it is a button. So sure I am that I don’t smell it. Everyone had a parka, right? With thic...

We need a bigger Sun That was still when wires were small, I tell my absent son. Before the walls were alive with things. The refr...

Stories we tell ourselves about Money, for example, or Love What if my phone was really big and came only in black? What if it was tether...

I've been reading Elaine Barry's Robert Frost on writing . In 1932, in a letter to protégé Kimbal Flaccus, Frost wrote (pg. 111): ...

A butterfly settled on the salty lip The sun behind it boomed I found myself in a flight path The margaritas bounced and for what ...