icon caret-left icon caret-right instagram pinterest linkedin facebook twitter goodreads question-circle facebook circle twitter circle linkedin circle instagram circle goodreads circle pinterest circle

NauenThen

Poetry Park

It was tucked in a corner lawn, looking over the Mississippi River in St. Paul. No signs or guidance. It didn't seem to belong to the building over there. The lines were burned into steel, marched up a column of fish, swirled in mosaics. River of sorrows, river of migration.

"to fields of ice & northern lights"

"your dream can become real"
Be the first to comment