Always
Last night I crossed the condo’s parking lot, caught my towel on an open metal gate soaked in a Jacuzzi during a lunar eclipse, moonlight spreading in the sky like
Last night I crossed the condo’s parking lot, caught my towel on an open metal gate soaked in a Jacuzzi during a lunar eclipse, moonlight spreading in the sky like
This is a story of two coffee shops that face each other on opposite sides of the street. One is General Arthur’s, named after a World War II veteran who
Inside the discolored sink of her hands, a woman leans over a single spark. Hers alone to nurse this foul splinter. To smother with rocks or feed with her breath?
This is a story about Randy and June, who lived in the Land of Silence. Every day they walked five miles outside the city to pick walnuts from the walnut
There was a telephone pole two inches tall. One night in New York City on January 3, 1948 at three o’clock in the morning, the pole said, “I wish I
On a planet long ago, there was only one color. And that color was white. People had white buildings, white suits, food, and many more things. Even the planet was
Collaborative Zoom Reading: Maw Shein Win, Lenore Weiss, Alex Mattraw & Tiff Dressen
7-8pm
Thursday, March 26, 2026
Clio’s Books, 353 Grand Avenue, 7pm to 9pm
Influence, Reinvention & Work that Endures
Lenore Weiss, Lee Rossi & Paul Corman-Roberts