Rick Forman lives in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, with his wife and children, looking for the natural contours of the land in the devastated landscape and looking for the life in the sky. An early riser, his ongoing poems are gathered under the working title “The Spell of Dawn.” His family’s home sits on the edge, at the top, of an Appalachian hillside which was at one time a designated bird sanctuary. The spring migrants headed north follow the hillside ridge. The redstart springs forth in the spell of dawn from the bathroom windowsill. He earns a living as a caseworker and continues to carve walking sticks gathered from trees toppled by the “big storm.” He knows his mother’s shopping list by heart and hopes to include it in his collected poems. His sometime persona, “Wandering Bear,” was inspired by an elusive black bear following the old Indian trails which snake through Frick Park down to the Monongahela River not far from the wildflower garden encircling his home.

( in the archaic light )  ( nobody circled that day in april )  ( the rock doves )
( These stones )  ( somewhere between )  ( I tripped on )  ( The contrails remain )
( No paper, no pen )