Cherrypicked stories

Gone the rag sound of a bird alone dropped on naked silence between dumpsters' grinding regurgitations from horizon's bridge and fuzzy pulse of cars...

I am a novelist. I do not exorcise bathrooms. Your're offering how much? Picture: Pixabay Creative Commons

Staring at a plane with you in awe As if we had never seen one Or been on one before And couldn’t even dream how that might feel Like watching moon...

The finite rhythm of the heart

It was small wonder that I was continually nursing a boil somewhere on my bottom...

He says ‘goodbye’ to me in magnetic letters on the fridge. Just that. A green G, a red O, a blue O, a yellow D, a blue B, an orange Y, a yellow E. And when I look inside, he’s cleaned it out, walked off with the leftover chicken, and my coconut smoothies, and the juice, and my cheese snacks.

i used to cross slow growing moss swells by tree masts, tossing, lichen rigged, see in the distance dragon wings, folded into hills. But now, words'...

“Yes, my dear girl, this is life now. We will never fit in, only get used to it. The trouble is, we are square pegs in a round hole.”

One daybreak it will be gone. This moon river breakfast epiphany that revels within its moment. Someone will say a kind word - or I will hear music...