It was in the narrow hour before evening,when the kitchen light became honeyupon the cups,and the window held the last blue breath of day,that The Woman spoke to me.Soon she would walkonto the Trail of the Spirits,where the old...

There was a time when morning seemedA continent no foot could cross,When one brief hour of summer lightOut-measured now a season’s loss;When every road beyond the hillWas rumor, promise, beckoning call,And love appeared a golden gateThat once passed through...

one tastecraving creepingfor that sweetnessalways hooked againgoing either wayfrom 100 to 0or 0 to 100in 1 second flatmakes my mind sofar gone i justgotta focus andstay far awayfrom the sickestand most preciousthing in my worldjust tonightone morenightthese sheets arechains...

HeartlandMy name is Steve Wills, and I live off Eight Mile Road, second left past the three red granaries, and I was a very young man once upon a time (that’s a fine way to start a story, isn’t...

Before the house had learned its sorrow,before the clock grew fat with silenceand the chairs began to keep their counsel,there was a bird whose throatcould unlock the morning.She came not like a guest,but like a blessing that had forgotten...