Spitball Army

Myfriend Jane recently Facebook-posted a list of the top ten dead bodies in literature, a list that includes Rev. Ames from Gilead and the dead woman discovered by the fishermen in Raymond Carver’s “So Much Water So Close to Home.”  She mentioned that Rebecca from Daphne du Maurier’s novel of the same name was a […]

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Thirty-three personal stories rise with a Phoenix, emerge from the metal cocoon, and are embraced by members of the global colony.

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That squirrel’s messed up, staggering in the street, dodging cars. The cowards watch, waiting for the ant poison to finish him.

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The train rolls through at midnight, its horn blasting, “Don’t even dream of getting in my way!” I can’t dream if I can’t sleep.

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Card is titled: “River Front Steps and Park, Harrisburg, PA.”

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Approximate playing time: 68 minutes.

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The day you asked me that certain query (Will Ya Marry Me?), I used good SCENTS and said “Yes, dearie.”

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Football scores alternate with pre-election polling results in my Twitter feed. Some games end at the buzzer; others never stop.

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With each basement flood, remains of other lives rise from the ground: toy cars, plastic Madonnas, coal chunks. They never leave.

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