Writer | Escape Artist | Desert Dweller
After my grandmother passed away, my mother began the onerous task of clearing out her house. Among the items she found…
I hug my backpack as raindrops pound the windshield. Mom grips the steering wheel, her new ring gleaming under the streetlamps.
The moon hung low in the cold blue sky, shining like a new quarter. A restless wind rolled tumbleweeds across the railroad tracks to scratch…
Experiments in shape poetry: one poem in two shapes.