An Archive of Rhubarb History

Worth more than cinnamon on the Silk Road; acidic in the cold, but good for dyeing; your great-aunt dips the raw stalks in sugar.

period blood
the moon moves closer
to earth

Dead Organic Matter

You’re told to own your words. But if this was written in first person, how would you ever be held accountable?

mockingbird song
picking cuticles
until they bleed

Mine marrow’s memory for every thing you forgot to write before sleeping. You dream the yard is tangled with snakes, living with the dead.

bone china
the past
in pastoral

Toast with a tall pour and hold bourbon in your mouth until your roof turns volcanic ash. In the next story, you’ll be the fire.

global warming
long noodle
long life

We leave on the shortest day, travel through floodwater in the trees. You say trains, I say birds merging mid-migration.

wind advisory
my growing need
for silence