The Visit

The Visit

The visit from my sister looks like this: Through the door, here she comes. Boots treading mud into the new rug. “It’s dry,” … View Post
British Holiday

British Holiday

Let me tell you how to have a British holiday. It should rain every day. Forget your umbrella though, and leave the car window … View Post
Wednesdays

Wednesdays

Palm comes crashing down onto the table as you thrust your papers into my face. “What is this?” you demand, spitting in your fury, … View Post
The Man at the Station

The Man at the Station

I see your legs bent and broken, and I think: Thank God I can still walk. Thank God I can run, if I wanted … View Post
These Eyes

These Eyes

A long time ago, inspired by my discovery of zines, I created a few poetry pieces for a collection to self-publish.  I found one … View Post