The Highest Cauldron By Anita Sullivan “Archaeologists, anthropologists, and other social scientists have known for quite some time that many ‘pagan’ folk religions, with their accompanying stories and songs, never completely died out,…

“I want to know which weeds are edible, just in case there is an earthquake and my neighbors and I are reduced to scrounging for food in the yards of the houses we…

“You never know how close any one thing is to the jugular until you have run it into the ground with a group of companions shortly to become your close friends.”—Anita Sullivan The…

“Wait! I squawk, waving my hand in the air. Maybe there is more to the plot than this bleak scenario. Consider the chicken and its mysteries. For example: a few months ago, when…

“That poetry is akin to madness doesn’t show up until a much later screen.” Anita Sullivan The Highest Cauldron By Anita Sullivan EUGENE Oregon—(Weekly Hubris)—11/4/2013—My husband is the poets’ ideal: he reads poetry…

“There seems little point to all their frenetic busy-work. I want to say to them, ‘Kick back and loll about under a hellebore leaf, for crying out loud! Crack open a root beer,…

“Somewhere in the garden/you stand balanced,/facing east towards/the cucumbers rioting/in the old sandbox.” Anita Sullivan The Highest Cauldron By Anita Sullivan EUGENE Oregon—(Weekly Hubris)—8/26/2013— At a certain time of year cucumbers When you…

“I didn’t plan it this way, but it turns out that my backyard garden has the exact number of flower blossoms in it to support one hummingbird: no more, no less.” Anita Sullivan …

“Down the blue circular stairs comes the father of the rats’ owner to say good morning. He sees the frog still sitting on Middle C and plucks it off. ‘You never know when…

“There’s one particular Yogi Berra expression my husband’s fond of repeating: ‘If you come to a fork in the road, take it.’ This could be a kind of test: What does this question…