Don’t be a Gus
Gus slammed his fist, not with the strength of a lumberjack but with the misplaced…
A Poem
When I looked for despair it found me. It curled in my stomach with a ball of dread. It dripped from cloudy…
A writer’s doubt
The old man sat alone with his memories on the platform bench, his battered and storied suitcase by his feet. The night…