Introduction by the Author

Facts of the past slip away into constellations, forever subject to interpretation. But words? Ah, words will dig their serif'd fingers into gray matter and take hold. More


Jessica left to talk with Rebecca and her friends, and she returned to our circle and asked, “Anyone for weed?” More


When I stepped out of the cab, I saw Marse standing in the well of her little fishing boat, wearing denim knee shorts and a yellow sleeveless blouse, her… More