No results found.
-
Chapter 4 from a really old unfinished novel: Imago, a Fictitious Memoir
No one needed or really wanted to ask about the classroom gore of the morning, letting go and moving on were what teachers had been trained to do. Read more
-
Black Ties
You have to stay here. We can’t let you leave the bar, you might tell someone of our predicament. Read more
-
Sister Karma
God, if you say one more weird thing about something, I’m gonna “thoat punch” you. Read more
-
Novel Time
Writing a novel is the culmination of what I’ve been preaching most of my whole life. Read more
-
Picturetrove
Suzanne giggled and stomped her feet at the secret she held, the power. Read more
No results found.
-
The Homeplace
In homage to the forestIts heavy shadowsDeep and darkGreener than green,even when the sun is brightand the begonias bloom deep red.Bits of grass, spindly and fine, grow around the river of moss in dotsLike cattails before they’re cutThe bells of the foxglove ring and ring and ringWhen the air moves soft electric Blue Morning glories…
Devonne Brown 