cabbage garden

photo: jetheriot

a face, lifted

photo: jetheriot

Every now and then, in the early morning just before I awake, words will scroll before my eyes in my dream, often in fully formed sentences. This happened to me one morning about six years ago. All these sentences kept scrolling in my dream. I could read them very clearly. And as the sentences scrolled, I floated down a gravel road, the gravel road to the camp in Catahoula, formerly known as the OLD PLACE, because my dad grew up there. These are the words I woke up and wrote down. The title came later.

mossy gaze

photo: jetheriot

gravel road

photo: jetheriot

dream no. 1

jetheriot

the stitcher of sheep

photo: timothy frederick

A LITTLE LADY lives comfortably in the head of a happy giant. She never sleeps. She’s always cooking up some project or perfecting a complex routine.

dust jacket author photo

photo: timothy frederick