After the rain, the air in the house smells like death. Ok, maybe decay. The carcasses of mice and birds rot inside the walls, poisoned by long ago tenants, or asbestos covered wires or glass filled insulation. The walls themselves, two hundred year old bricks - clay and mud, moldering away, crumbling, becoming what they were before they … Continue reading After the rain
Prose Poetry is poetry without the rhymes or the line breaks. A collection of words intended to convey a feeling or a mood - not so interested in plot or character. The last two things I wrote, Unresolved, here on this site, and The death of a moment, over on my fiction site definitely adhere … Continue reading Is that what you call it?
"I've never cheated on my wife before." The words emerge from his mouth, swirl, spin, land on my tongue, only a breath away from his own. The words are ice, my mouth slows, shuts around the cold. I will not go where I am not wanted. But his hands have not heard his words and … Continue reading The death of a moment
How did the homeless woman get into the locker room in the first place? Why is the fact that the police officer was Kind and Patient so important? I don't know the whole story. I was a minor player, a walk-on, an un-credited character in a non-speaking role. The camera only caught my entrance, my eyes … Continue reading Unresolved