My dad came home from work and sat on the black leather couch in the living room. He always sat in the same spot. He always looked tired. Every night went the same: first work, then couch until the ... [+]
Poetry
Rumor has it the lake is a graveyard, she says.
There are bones down there, tumbled smooth and
... [+]
Dare we invite the dreamwolf in,
to jump through our chaste window,
carry us over the midnight
... [+]