Fiction
A New World
While he sleeps I catalogue his body. When he is awake I keep my distance. While he dreams I touch and map in a
Home No More
I miss your coffee-covered breath, Early in the morning. It made me hungrier than death For a thrill without a warning. I miss your sweet
Wednesday
It’ll be a Wednesday. It’ll be cloudy outside. There will be fog creeping over the ravine and remnants of an early-morning rain still drifting
The Code
Carl didn’t know the code. The timer was ticking, the bomb was going to blow, but he had no idea how to shut the thing
Fragmented Silence, Fragmented Sound
How do you photograph silence? Is it represented by an empty room? A sleeping baby? A seascape?
Hurricane
hurricane Syllables [hur-i-keyn, huhr– or, esp. British, -kuh n] –noun After a couple weeks sentence of staying in some foreign place with trees, she came back home and Miami