Category: Nonfiction

House Guest

I saunter slowly through the aisles of annuals and poppies, past flowering cacti and tiny Christmas trees following Michaelene in the Lowe’s Garden Center on

Searching for Her

I knew you were drunk last night. Not by the smell as much as the three times you called me beautiful. By the talk of

Essays on Production

I. That winter, I took up writing in an attempt to forget the countryside.  My first play, carefully parsed out into eight acts, took place

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