By Claudia Monpere

“She wants to want again: the smell of rain on warm asphalt, the feel of granite threaded with glittering mica. She wants to know about ripples not cracks.”

By Claudia Monpere

“The debris is mostly cleared, but this land is a black ulcer. I walk around my acres, dark skeletons of madrones, pines. I walk to the fairy ring of redwoods where my son and I made elf houses and at night cuddled in blankets drinking hot chocolate.”