Back to School

Tara Deal Between learning Japanese and planning this evening’s dinner the day does not slip away but congeals like conger eel in quiet jelly, what we could never have here, or that plum-cloudy candy with gold leaves, scattered, sticky in small hands waving when the children rush outside, too fast, and all one can ask… More

Stream of Consciousness

Tara Deal The drip from the ceiling, a small thing, stain in the evening, not worth fixing, even, almost not worth mentioning now that some love has gone a little brown around the edges like a rusty wrought iron gate from one of the old hotels when those were the days, with sparkling fountains in… More

Summer Afternoon

Tara Deal The most beautiful words in California: woodsmoke, coastal fog, lavender flowers along the sidewalk, coffee and sage burning at the margins, impossible to determine where in the white cool air like milk beginning to turn. Tara Deal is a writer and editor living in New York City. Her poetry has appeared in failbetter,… More