Prose Poetry: Tornado Sky
A short one. A storm roils overhead, gray clouds swirling green and then a deep violet- black. There is nothing here. A field, flatter than a pancake rolls far and away for miles. A thin highway snakes across the plain into the clouded horizon. Alongside it, the train tracks are embedded in the earth, iron … Continue reading
Flash Fiction: Neon
I moved from a city that was always dark after ten o’clock, the stars still able to peek through the smog, to shine a little light here and there. Here, I find myself doused, soaked, slick with neon, even when I’ve thought I washed it away, down, down the drain. I’m getting used to the … Continue reading
The Quill, The Key, and the Compass 