This man, if man he was a devil we were insulted when he finished his painting of evil deeds, attributed. Corpses piled like firewood bodies hacked to bits burned to cinders their dead mouths in open rebuke His certain voice explained it was only a puzzle. Oh, how we hated him We surged and gnashed
Read on »Archives: Wednesday, October 4, 2017
After Orcas
It’s not the place. She kept telling herself this, but it wasn’t helping. She swallowed, the acrid taste of bile in her throat. It was cold on deck, the wind’s icy fingers prying open the buttons of her coat. She gripped the steel rail as she watched the bow cleave the black water. The motors’
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