Fiction and Poetry

On this morning's walk in the mountains by the river. A robin turning to look A gray squirrel chattering A black butterfly circling Aga...

Walking along the rocky shore of Santa Cruz, and the fog rolling in, I remember seagulls gliding and swooping within its grey rolls, thei...

From the scaly serpent’s mouth, a moment stops the ticking of a clock. One number, one point five, now turned two. A crowd gasps for air,...

The boys are out with their basketballs hugged close or bounced high and caught. The boys are out with pants falling around their sneaker...

In the tall grass along the path’s edge before the tangled branches of the elm, the oak, the pine shut out the light, sideways and alerte...

At Agua Fria and Camino Alire in Santa Fe: Through the red light Broken down car – Chihauhau grinning. ~~ Gust of wind A flock takes flig...

When I came, I stood upon a cliff, red in the dying light, then fell, pushed over the edge with laughter. I sailed through the air like a...

Your shining head, and wide open stare. You, a round figure, appearing lit in a shadowed room. Your tiny lips barely opened, a double sy...