Behind The Belle Motel
I’m 35 taking a piss outside a purple house in Belle, Missouri. This is our off day. I’m supposed to be asleep. Recovering. But I could...
Snowdrop
We cannot lie to angels when it snows. Â The ground turns black and white. Â She sees ink strokes, left- over paint drowning the canvas...
Beneath the Arc of a Pagan Star
Three small, brown eggs lay steaming in a bowl, pointing inward at the empty space between. I rest my sight in that subtle gap, to hold...