Tag Archives: Writing

My Mother Tells Us

My mother tells us, “There was a bird on the lamb.” We’re thinking, Why was a bird hiding from the authorities? What did he do? Or maybe a bird was hitching a ride on an actual lamb, suddenly innocent and … Continue reading

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As summer 2015 unfolds I can’t help but think about last summer, 2014.

As summer 2015 unfolds I can’t help but think about last summer, 2014. “That Summer” was the theme of a writing contest I entered last July, right when I was in the thick of things. Pastemagazine.com’s submission rules invited me … Continue reading

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Who took my rose-colored glasses?

Who took my rose-colored glasses? Without them I’m in limbo-land, my own personal time warp. The pain when I move, or the sleep that won’t come, prompts mid-night pharmaceutical intervention and a late start the next day. But a late … Continue reading

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