Trimmed branches bleed ice, Gray grass murmurs, discontent. Clouded dome white weeps.  Rippled water Reality distorted. Walking back from class.  Small in a big pond Standing at a puddle’s edge Sees upside-down world.  Branches together Pointing, reaching, kissing tips Like cathedral doors.
Sometimes I wish I was Lilac flowers bundled together with twine White fluffy cardigan in a field of daisies Reading Jane Austen with the gold lined porcelain tea set beside me  Or rather maybe sipping Earl Grey tea Studying Thoreau in a dimly lit coffee shop The smell of Vermont swirling around
I visited a nursing home three weeks ago and this might sound awful scratch that this is the worst thing I have ever said and probably the worst thing I will ever say  every single person in that building was already dead. There were corpses rotting from the inside out being sat in front [&h
By Gabrielle Crone       Only a hillbilly would bring their injured dog to the vet using twine as a leash. At least that’s what our vet, Westley, announced when he saw my grandpa, Charles Bailey, in the lobby of the clinic twine leash in hand. Gizmo had injured his paw, most [&helli
By Emma Gail Compton I made the table I eat dinner at. The wood was cheap but sturdy. The stain I chose is a dark oaky red and makes the small round table seem more expensive than it was. One could find something similar at any store, but this table, my table, I made. I […]
By Fara Ling Ah Ma,     A few weeks ago, I realized I have never written Ah Ma a letter. That means I have never told Ah Ma I love you. There’s no way to say it in Hokkien, Ah Ma’s mother tongue. Forcing the syllables wa ai lu to sit next to […]