Women on the plane wore head scarves, others neck pillows, shoes from all over the mall. The only constant was the omnipresence of cellphones and iPads, clusters of people gathered
Starched white suit, he wears an olive oil can crown on his head, carries challah as a scepter, a scepter mixes seeds blown from a thistle rubbed on the honey
Books UPS taped and labeled, my proxy before I landed in Shreveport where a shunned bullet path stuttered like a roman candle, and a bag of chips fell from a
She sits on a bench wearing a carved tree resin rose black garbage bag filled with acorns, eucalyptus leaves, her bandages of flesh. Whatever she finds she stuffs into her
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