Prose & Poetry

It was the summer of his twentieth year when the son of the Great Chieftain died. […]

            I am standing outside my parents’ bedroom window and there are socks, but no shoes,

and this book is a rose on the deconstruction of constellations into starfall. I have written

I just wish I could visit his grave.  Just to stand by it.  I’d only been

Most of my thoughts prefer to lounge about the attic of my mind. It is finely

Chapter 1 – Love Makes Its Way Although our family was not the richest family of

It was a pleasant morning in our city of Brighton, a town already blessed with so

Irony strikes first:You’d laugh if you only knewThe person I am. Supposing that I–A reborn soul

I learned to say “McCutcheons” before I learned to say “ornery,” “disorderly,” “drunkard,” or “mental,” and