Poetry
The plows have done their work and then some as I coast the washboard lane to a bike shop where the sign on the main road says I can also purchase peach preserves and tractor parts.
Poetry
In those last hours or days you’ll negotiate spheres and rays with Galileo,
Poetry
with their past glories sheared off the old dogs of Karma come sniffing around I had left them in the backyard laying around
Fiction
On a Saturday morning in late September, while waiting for her estranged husband Del to arrive
Non-Fiction
I confess that I frequently judge books by their titles. In some cases, this kind of snap decision works every time.
Poetry
White violets and woodsmoke, Good dogs and bad boys Fooling around down in the ravine,
Poetry
Her place is about 5,500 popsical sticks square, a little bigger than my shotgun apartment.