It’s the place where the dead are sleeping, barely breathing in the moist black earth along the creek. They will rise when the time comes, and ask the living for a candle, perhaps a dish with a cookie on it.
Old legend whispers them, bent-backed, crook-kneed from the nest of their military graves in the low-ground cemetery by the river. They hobble a clacking cadence whose time no mortal can … Continue reading
A train pulls into the station. Passengers break like billiard balls, glide to cars and uses. Ezekiel the pushcart vendor hawks his hot potatoes. This is the month of the … Continue reading