prose

Book of mirrors

Dappled yellow leaves on the ground and rainwater gathered on trash can lids pooling in the creases. Back to wearing socks and donning my old sweater, funny things in pockets from forgotten times. Robins tugging worms from the scruffy rise… Read More ›

Claws on stone

Nervous, the dog follows me up the hill looking for the moon. Last day of July. It wasn’t long after I tied up all the daisies they died. Because it couldn’t give me everything I wanted, I kept going back… Read More ›