Continued from Three of Swords
I try to hold the sun inside the same way your mother did, like a talisman. I see…
The window fogs beneath my breath; a blank slate. Here I write your name. Always your name. The upholstery is not unlike that of…
Read the rest of the “West” saga: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Jennifer Stevens rocks. This week, 1:1000 chats with the photographer behind “The Jam Times”, “Living the Dream”…
“What the hell happened to this place?” Jeff said, inching forward until a piece of ivy penetrated the Mercedes logo in the center…
I glance at the stack of messages my secretary just handed me. The name on the top one hits me like knuckles to the solar plexus.
Continued from The Violent Acts of Poets, Part I.
When the woman came to paint the farm, I didn’t know what to say, so I asked her if she would like to come in.