Fiction

Poetry

Treading The Fire

maybe beauty will remain an abstract dirge; a mantra to be ruminated over like a submerged leek becoming tender in warm water. as it seems

Fiction

This Place, it Echoes

  My first real breath of air smells of pine and woodsmoke. It comes to me on a cool breeze, mid-afternoon, a sunny day that

Fiction

After the Earthquake

At first, the dreams were jagged and bewildering, like migraine lightning or a Dali canvas.

Poetry

Hello I am a Star

  Sky sky sky sky stars Stars and stars and stars HELLO STARS I love you Blink blink blink twinkle Sky, my home I am

Poetry

Marge Simpson

Knows the heart ache of canaries. Hummimg bird to spilt milk No friends same dress Pearls that rarely dance Five dollar rose bouquets Without a

Short Story

Lichtenberg Figures

The skin is the largest organ of the human body. It insulates and protects. It contains all we are. Fluids, muscles, tissues and bones, shuddering