Ridire QuinnCranewifeFalling from the snow (the wind ripped from her wings, crashing) into a garden; into the garden.Jan 28, 2019Jan 28, 2019
Ridire QuinnA Nail and a Crossan old woman steps out of the past (she pulls a nail out of her pocket) her eyes closed, now, to the cycling tides.Sep 4, 2018Sep 4, 2018
Ridire QuinnAlleywaysrunning through (the secret black alley)ways that stray un- seen throughround this city(bleached harsh- white by the sun’s relent- less…Nov 18, 2017Nov 18, 2017
Ridire QuinnRegenisisIn the absence of a beginning, there is an After(which cannot be helped)and there is a Before(which is better anyway). In…Nov 12, 2017Nov 12, 2017
Ridire QuinnPassagesI miss walls if only for the secret spaces behind them, giving sneak andSep 3, 2017Sep 3, 2017
Ridire QuinnSpaghetti Night: a PTSD Story“A grown man with mom issues…” they say. No. I say. They never have to. I’m dog(woo)d or (will)ow when oak, or worse, magnolia is…Jul 19, 2017Jul 19, 2017
Ridire QuinnA Drier WorldDesiccation is a new word I found. I like this word.May 27, 2017May 27, 2017