New literature by:
*includes full color art by David Chorlton*
Available during the month of June at:
56711 29 Palms Hwy
Dear Rich,
Turquoise
is water, is stone, is a worn
chenille robe...
Bonnie Bostrom invites us into her world through her poems’ resonant, everyday yet extraordinary detail. Inside the “illusion” of rain-coming in “drought troubled lands”. an old woman walks. making friends with death. Her own. The world’s. These two cannot be separated.
The old woman walks with care...imagines herself a “tortoise, flipped, unable to rise.” But as she finds herself on the ground, she wonders at the lingering intuition that somehow, even here “real rain is coming.”
She is elemental, sensing “readiness to die.” Almost an embrace. Even as, within the subtle or sudden displacement of aging, layers of time and changing points of view render her/our familiars strange and what is close, distant. All she/we can do is learn to savor changes, find out their secrets. Come to make meaning of and to treasure the strangeness. “My walls are starting to smooth/where I use them to navigate…into silence and shadow.” And so it seems we too might find ways to translate the vertigo of aging, its sudden incapacities, fading of senses, which for so long were our sture guides.
Maia, June 3, 2026





