late night fiction
I wish to live in boring times
Are we all the paper tumbling down the road
Today a guy was standing at the light by the nearby underpass -- the one next...
“How’s it going?” I ask, squinting in the setting sunlight behind him.
You can't say you love me for all the things I do for you
the presence of death--
There is a sage that appeared one day, emerging from some unknown place.
Pages, flat, wide
2 more weeks
PLANS FOR THE FUTURE