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- Poetry > All Poetry
I am the lion that no chains can hold I am the mustang whom no-one cannot break I am the eagle that soars without wings My tamer's the victim who drowns in my wake. I am the sun that screams through the rain I am the gold that no fool can find I am the armor no knife dares to pierce My... - Poetry > All PoetryAs still as death among the choking bush Amber-slitted eyes like burning flame Samples juicy meat from shadows lost Weighing in on drowsy, grazing game. Steel claws and rippling muscles flex Streaks of black dance down his blazing skin Coat of dying embers, rusty brass Shadows cloak the f...
- Poetry > Free Versei sing you nuna, dark eyes of the wind-soaked earth fragile in my arms wet hair like bleeding ink, wet eyes like a calf’s milk above your suckling lips white and warm as a heartbeat so alive it defied the laws we’d built for ourselves (it could roll off your skin and drift toward the pe...
- Fiction > All FictionAnd his family—how they watched him shrivel into himself. The loss of his mobility, his independence, and the unfamiliar pain that bloomed from watching himself waste away. His body went first; it thinned and weakened quickly, suffering the inevitable lethargy of paralysis, and exercise became a d...
- Fiction > All FictionMaybe everyone should be tagged like deer. A little barcode right under your skin. Every mother and baby and daddy, and all the oldies and youngies and lonelies, and all the quiet kids, and all the ones who won’t shut up. But mostly all the ones who laugh at me. Then I could sit in a velvet chair ...
- Fiction > All FictionCharlie had counted for only three minutes. It was unbearable for a nine-year-old. One Mississippi, two Mississippi…he bounced each syllable so it sounded like a circus song. Michael always demanded more hiding time than most kids, because he chose his spots with a neurotic pickiness. He was rarel...
- Fiction > All Fiction“You don’t think Mom’s gonna get mad if we take it out?” Charlie had said. Michael crouched on the splintery dock below him, struggling with the thick ropes that tied the canoe down. The field grass was hot and wet that day, and the lake was windy. Charlie was young and innocent and didn...
- Fiction > All FictionThe water of the Missouri Ozarks was low that day. The brothers had lain by the water’s edge in mud as thick and wonderful as frosting, and they had talked about knives. Charlie was young and innocent and didn’t want to be anything, but he was all-knowing and all-cool, as most eight-year-olds we...
- Fiction > All FictionStop. If he had wings he could fly into the sun. Stop. But he didn’t have wings, and God gave him dense bones, denser than those of a sun-bound bird. Would his bones crumble, folding into its dust and marrow, at the bottom of 100 feet? Don’t jump. He wanted to, but not to sati...
- Poetry > Free Versewhen our world was hot burned by the slowest sun we’d seen and the trees shook themselves free of summer green and down went the lazy honeybees we knew what was coming we shook ourselves free under the August sky and watched the blue world turn again we burned our skin again and we remembe...
- Poetry > SonnetI think the day less sweet than yesterday When august shook the hazy blue of morn The crimson-breasted birds that lit in May Betrothed the ripened sky and left, forlorn. Where sprawled the tender crib of April’s fawns Where damp the morning sip of leafy green The frost of winter bares its te...
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Photo > Photographs - Art /
Photo > Photographs - Art /
Photo > Photographs
