Kirk Gothier

My Grampa sold candy, Stored in an ancient…

They come and go Like subatomic particles, Hinting…

He said as I left home With all…

Hugs coastlines,Rolls over bottomlands, Saunters up hills Steeped…

We are all a spectrum. Light and color…

Is awash in inactivity, Chips piled to the…

The soft refrain Of ancient algorithms Race down…

Plowing through the wet gray We headed south…

I have been pruning For more than two…

Captain Bitts loved to crow: “The mud is…

A huge truck is high centered, just west…

Deer trimming pear trees Eye fruit that slowly…