A poem written for my student right before they read "The Cask of Amontillado"
"The winters of Vega IX are stormy and wet, and the rumbling sky promised its yield to its sprawling central city." The first installment of a science-fiction work of as-of-yet unknown total length.
Look, I know springtime is the appropriate time to seek adventure; to strike out into the unknown with a bag on your back and a song on your lips, but for me it's the crisp bite of fall air that, as it floods your lungs, unleashes the kind of longing that Odysseus must have once … Continue reading Margaret Isn’t Grieving. Should She Be?