Spring 2009
Fiction, no matter how short or long, is the art form of human yearning.
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He’s gonna change the way we farm around here. Make it more like India.
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My daddy used to yodel. That’s not all. He'd wear plaid shorts & guinea Ts.
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He sees the slight swelling of her breasts in the open collar of her blouse.
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Now the ashes were real, the pepper trees reduced to stubs.
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I'll pick a black card of luck for you: star, pinkmoon, mirror, ostrich eye.
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She had yellow cat eyes that she insisted were also blond.
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