ստվերները լուսնի

‘You’re the only one who can still make me cry,’ said my wife from the side of the road. No … More

Spine Call

Rrrrrriiiiiiiinnnngggg. Rrrrrriiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggg. ‘Hello.’ ‘Roland, hi, it’s me.’ Breathing. Breathing. ‘What’s wrong? You sound out of breath.’ ‘What’s wrong? I’ll tell … More

You Smell of Smoke

It’s snowing out. A few weeks before Christmas Day. You’re shopping for presents. A scarf, red like something burning to … More

Miss Apple Votes to Burn

I was wrapped in linens, the ones my father had traded jars of moss for in a desert town years … More

Where Mama and the Hallowe’en Leaves Don’t Be

After sunset, and a dead boy sat in a wicker chair on the porch of his mama’s home. Seeing the … More

Tart Apples

A moon swayed lightly in the sky. The slug slimed its way up and over the steps until it reached a … More

A Stream of Consciousness about Brussels and Being Home

What this guy sees is smoke and he hears noise like screaming. He’s on the ground, he’s at an airport, … More

The Phones

The smell of gunpowder makes its way into my nose. God. You’d think a cop wouldn’t mind the smell. Might … More

The Day Moon Before Allhallowtide

The early morning stirs its way into the dawn’s dark sky. And the evening moon, which became the night moon, … More

The Farmer, the Skeleton

The window over the sink, the one with a late-day sun coloring the kitchen. Through it, the farmer watched the … More