Martha Silano

Eat Prey, Love

Eat Prey, Love

When an owl is hooting outside your bedroom window, do you leave your bed,strap on your head lamp, search the Douglas fir till you find it?Owl? Owl? I’ve been meaning to ask if owls fall in love, or is it something else. Hoot-n-love? Eat prey, love?My aloneness weighs less than the footprints of shrews. What’s …

Lunching with Frank O’Hara on My Deck

The Russian sage is sprouting leaves from a brown stem dormant since November. Weeks ago, I pulled awaythe dead, unsure whether it was a perennial,all the while O’Hara insisting now the phone can be answered, nobody calling, only an echo / all can confess to be homeand waiting, which reminds me the eraof the landline …

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