The morning before Father’s Day, my brother and I rode our bicycles to McCann’s Gift Shop. The store carried a brass shaving kit with…
Can immortality be found in the stories we tell?
Sometimes.
Sometimes I feel I already lost. I played my hand badly. I can’t get over it. I obsess about it. I play…
Today’s sky hangs low, gray gags the sun’s shine.
Guarded by an iron door,The king sits on his throne;Without a care in the world,Couldn’t have asked for more
She veiled her hands and tucked her face. A face twice riddled with pimple like manifestations. In my unholy stare I had scared her, awakened her…
…
again and again, and again…