Micro Story #8: Deserving I sit on my living room floor surrounded by clear glasses of water. They sparkle against the show the sunrise plays for us. My mouth goes...
Poem #11: The Bones Don't Carethere’s a charnel house at the back of my property I go there to sing to the bones my melodies are ghastly, sorrowful ruinous, but the...
Poem #10: September, SeptemberI have a saying that September begins when October ends, or maybe it’s October lives inside September. I’ve always thought of September...