Tag: wandering

roundabouts nowhere

the question, always the same, and the answer is that there are so many blessed nowheres she says she'll have to find me when I finally get that car, when I finally succumb to go she knows that I can write about birds for only … Continue reading roundabouts nowhere


down east

it was late November when I drove toward Maine I still hear how the wind tore across the highway, rattling doors and nearly blowing that tired red Buick into the frozen ditch I had second, third - hell sixth thoughts on the other side of … Continue reading down east