The short fiction of j hardy carroll
That you said once over eggs the same bird neither blind nor striking disappointed us all Yet again here I mourn debt’s sorrow: an occupant pressed into proper silence whey veins curled in sheets await the occasion yearned to be pinned by anything at all The Daily Post:…
Janie, hand in hand with Chloe. In my memory, I can’t see their faces because they’re walking away, but I know they’re happy. It’s early June, the morning air fresh with last night’s rain and the miles of fresh farmland in every direction. My girls are so excited they start to skip down the midway.…