Sharing Grief
The fire in the front room burned hot and steady, throwing its c...
Sand, Stone, Tide
The tide had not yet decided to come for it, and so the cast...
A Man Walks down the Street...
The road is longer than I remember roads being....
The Pensive Ondine
The branch had grown out over the water at an angle that su...
A homage to Yeats
There is a particular quality to the light that falls over t...
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