Quite possibly, the only thing that I am certain is true is the fact of change.
Change is dynamic.
Change is real.
Just when you think you know something, you look at it again. And by that time everything has already changed; yet, subsequently, you are too slow to realize any of this has taken effect until it's too late.
Change endures.

Latest Entry

Plum Heart

June 27, 2018
He opens the door and she's there; a dress of cobalt blue, three buttons undone at the neck. He can see the beads of sweat in the hollow of her throat, an ocean the size of his thumb, but this is the wrong picture. She is supposed to be in the third seat, fourth row…
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Recent Entries

  • A For Now Coda
    June 27, 2018
    I've been a reader/writer for an online authors group for over 18 years. Its golden era has long passed but there are still enough contributions to stave off stagnation. This week, in a fit of nostalgia perhaps, I sat down and completed a long drabble in response to a challenge issued back in '03...
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  • Beloved (part 7 of 7)
    June 26, 2018
    So they heal quickly; it's what they're manufactured to do. She's on her feet by morning; she wears his t-shirt and pair of his jeans into the bazaar to buy fresh clothes, and returns in denim cutoffs and a Coca-Colat-shirt that's seen better days. Also a pair of thick sunglasses. He does not ask...
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  • Beloved (part 6 of 7)
    June 26, 2018
    This is how his return was supposed to have been: Rain slides down the window pane with the soft glow of midnight blue sky as they curl up in the smallest ball and forget the times they buried each other alive and pretended not to hear. They forget they did not always resurrect as the…
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  • Beloved (part 5 of 7)
    June 26, 2018
    She stares up into the shower so cold she gasps for breath but not only from the water. The cold brings out the bruises on her palms, hardening them into blue-purple-green knots of flesh and bone. Her knees are shaking, she can't keep herself straight up, she beats her fist against the wall. Belo...
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  • Beloved (part 4 of 7)
    June 26, 2018
    He will carry the bus rides inside his bones even after he exits the deathtrap buses: the ache in his head from machine-gun barrages of squalling brakes and babies, omni-present livestock, the choked roar of the engine. The cramping in his legs from sharing the seat with an old woman and her hens...
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  • Beloved (part 3 of 7)
    June 26, 2018
    Dawn ignites the bus station: grimy, red-eyed with smoke and exhaust, groaning with the weight of its vehicles, its weariness, its thousand moving parts. A description not far removed from herself. She runs her hand over the scars on her wrist to remember the first bus station in this long line o...
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  • Beloved (part 2 of 7)
    June 26, 2018
    Moti Sweets: the sign decays above the stone building beneath the telephone wires, above the exposed plumbing jutting out from the wall like broken skeleton ribs. A leprosy of rust. Don't drink the water. Impossible, he thinks. I must have read it wrong. But this is the address. He reads it again...
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  • Beloved (part 1 of 7)
    June 26, 2018
    She scrubs a paper towel against the skin of her throat over the rough sketch of her collarbone until the paper begins to unravel-- the soap smells of old bandages-- and she dresses that way, with the skin still wet. The only way to survive until darkness. The old woman said that heat is like&hel...
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  • Asset 5
    An Interlude
    June 26, 2018
    I always dream when I’m unconscious, and this time I watch a young woman set fire to herself: a young, slender woman dressed in layers upon layers of the gauzy kind of robe that takes well to kerosene and matches. I never saw her face. There was a veil of thin lace just transparent enough…
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