Thomas A. Morgan : Writing

Woodcut

Woodcut

A Poem by Thomas A. Morgan


If when I finally appear in woodcut print and you’re still holding a match to find your way through the winter house stop to watch how the lov..
New Mexico Lavender

New Mexico Lavender

A Poem by Thomas A. Morgan


Fields of New Mexico lavender before a summer storm seem an old-time place of fragrances and soft heat indeed, a theatre of colors enough to hasp yo..
Desert Bloom

Desert Bloom

A Poem by Thomas A. Morgan


Cold desert bloom gathers colors like lost-bird red and faded treacle, and varies the oasis of California. Time and sand canyons, endlessly baked an..
Orange County

Orange County

A Poem by Thomas A. Morgan


I’ve walked through the orange groves that once were Everything to the dusty-hot landowners down here. I’ve listened to those boozy lost..
At Encanto Ranch

At Encanto Ranch

A Poem by Thomas A. Morgan


At Encanto Ranch hard shadows led the old race-winner horses as they clop the summer-hot trail along the mountainside toward the top. Terracotta-..
Villa Song

Villa Song

A Poem by Thomas A. Morgan


I’ll go where the rent horses lumber past and the night softness returns anciently: a place of old California built by hands that have fade..
The Bog Indian

The Bog Indian

A Poem by Thomas A. Morgan


cased in the sweet soft peat, in the meadow trough of a tractor’s pull, lay frozen the cold still Indian, fallen here in a late forgotten strug..
Hunters in the Field

Hunters in the Field

A Story by Thomas A. Morgan


Pine trees and birches edge the wide pasture that slopes eastward from the road toward the mountain ranges we’re familiar with from maps. Mona..
Fawnskin

Fawnskin

A Story by Thomas A. Morgan


The woman who picked me up at the bar was sound asleep and didn’t even stir when I got up from the bed and gathered my clothes off the floor and..
Something Ancient, Something Old

Something Ancient, Something Old

A Poem by Thomas A. Morgan


These days there are ghosts and stonewalls that fade whispering into October smokelight hours, passing slowly o’er fields where a fragment o..

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