She has drawn them disembarking a sky-blue bus, fresh from the bombing of Al Hajar. Some stumble in the red-blobbed orchard, their hair shedding dust.
At a writing conference several years ago, I had gone straight from the airport to a reception held by an organization that had given me a prize the previous year. The event was in the side room of a restaurant and there was cake. I love...
I’m thinking of how mushrooms will haunt a wet log like bulbous ghosts; of how a mushroom may be considered a travesty of a flower
