on rough drafts

I will not mow the lawn. Not today.

sol roth or california death ranch

Garner – all bone and sinew, an easy smile and tired eyes – had leaned out his window (maybe just to get air) and then (all bone and sinew) caught momentary flight...

there’s a third person in this story

The gutter is stained with lives...

to be an island island that, itself, was here.

river monster

"There's blood in the water all over the place around here," Clem told me.

Zoltar told me it would be so

...the paper itself will come apart, will dis-integrate, will allow itself to let go of itself, each piece becoming a new entity apart from the whole.

we worms remember

His fingers were soft, his lips delicate.

ren’s field

For now though, there was a hitch in my gate, a stutter in my stride. I moved like a broken automaton, a machine aware of the hows of survival but unaware of the whys of survival. I pulled my lips back from my teeth, licked my lips, and repeated that motion five times to loosen up the muscles that allow such an facial expression.

in creases

There is a crease in my sleeve... what does it prophecy?

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