Mar 20, 2021 | Fiction |
At first I thought it was a cop and a shoeshine boy; then there was a break in the traffic and across the sun-glaring bands of trolley rails I recognized Clifton. His partner had disappeared now and Clifton had the box slung to his left shoulder with the cop moving...
Jun 1, 2019 | Lyrics |
My death waits like a maid at night, At the swinging of the scythe, To gather up the time that passes. My death waits just like a princess At the funeral of my youthfulness, To remind me that time passes. My death waits like Maleficent, On the day that we wed, To...
Oct 16, 2016 | Fiction |
There was also a time when, wandering through museums, I would stop to face and question the Saint Georges and their dragons. The paintings of Saint George have this virtue: you can tell the painter was pleased to have to paint a Saint George. Because Saint George can...
