She passes the woods, the flowing brook, and arrives at a palace of locked closets. Its only prince is tired of soirees. The orchestra plays Mussorgsky in a blaze of…
Chocolate and warts don’t mix. Everybody knows that, but they don’t say. If you find yourself with a bad case of love-sickness, bathe with honey and lavender to keep your…
Once upon a time there was me, a girl from Paris who likes bread and butter and traveling. I like more than that, but those are three of my favorites.…
At the end of whatever lightless era We have known We come to a small clearing in the wood. The hut there rests on two clacking Bones And a chicken’s…
Every morning I write a suicide note and then throw it away. How do I explain the inherent freedom that comes from writing, I cannot go on or, this world…
The night the sun burned out we closed all the windows and hoped it wouldn’t rain. It hung empty above us like a winter stripped oak uprooted or a wheel…
It’s about not cutting your feet on broken tiles. High heels have no place in contact sports and sharp turns avoid stains made by bleeding toes. Floating at the low…
Are you lost? Come closer (the trees have dreams that will seep into your pale skin) and rest on moss softening this place you trespassed because home is not home.…
The reporters describe me as a spoiled eccentric. They’re in my husband’s pocket. In truth, I live in my own private prison. For irony’s sake, it’s an elegant prison: the…
The notice arrived sometime this morning. It lay on the scuffed parquet floor for hours before Fay could muster the courage to open it. With the support of anonymous neighbors,…
Gingerbread House Lit Mag 