Our apartment in Stockholm had a blue kitchen floor, or so I am told. I was three when they brought me back to America, where both my parents were born. I wanted my blue…
Browsing Category Prose, Poetry, and Art
The Sun’s Going Down by Clifton Bates
It’s getting dark, the sun’s going down. Winter’s around the corner. Fields are turning brown. Won’t be long I’ll be a skeleton hobbling around trying to type with boney fingers carrying a cranium full…
What Happened by Clifton Bates
The snowball hit the baby The mortar missed the father But the snowball hit the baby. Image by: Nigel Wedge
The Hunting of the Snark an Agony in Eight Fits
THE HUNTING OF THE SNARK an Agony in Eight Fits by Lewis Carroll PREFACE If–and the thing is wildly possible–the charge of writing nonsense were ever brought against the author of this brief but instructive…
Parrots in Alaska by Todd Flynn
My father is morbidly obese and diabetic. At 380 pounds, with ruined knees, the ex-athlete has traded cheers and adulation for gawks and whispers. He’s a carnival attraction, given wide berth, even in the…