Ode to Fungi

Reclining in wrapping indifferent to its contents, the tidy row of portobellos lies chilling; scaly surfaces restricted by saran to fit, shipped far from forest understory now gasping for breath through tiny puncture-perfect holes.   Carefully pulling free vulgar...

Vows

He never wore a ring, she said. Though it might have been better than mangling it on a lumber hook two days after the wedding, nearly cutting that digit free at least. Such things happen, I know. Symbols on display do not indicate what harbors within. Commitment,...

Middle of Nowhere

Cruising the low deserts of California conferred much pleasure in my youth. Flat stretches of landscape frighten some, but I thrilled to the sensation of expansive space; the purple hills hanging in the distance; the shimmering waves of heat hovering just above the...