Maybe the problem is that the men are just never real enough.
Someday when I’m dead I’ll look back on all this from the future or Eternity is what it might be and wonder how I made it through life but suddenly remember that I didn’t
“Our gods demand the very latest sacrifices.”
How to call these sheets a city, how to reach out and touch.
I listened to the voice of self-preservation. We continued walking. This time I did not look back.
Literary events in and around Flagstaff during the month of November.
But there’s no need for him now because that him is me, and I am more like him than I was before.
We grow older; we own nothing. Who will move to whom? When will life begin?
in the middle of a sorrow snowstorm even the tossed timber dice looks pearl sugar white
My girlfriend said the stupidest thing this morning. She said she’s in love with words.