Latest Works

i.  Templum Having spilled spells over wine-slick lips, the skies divide. The augur marks the passing of each avian pilgrim. From their...

I buried the truth near here, near this bench. In the park, yes; I panicked. I know how I must look: a woman unmoored, wild haired,...

Once there was a farm called Green Shoots, tucked away far from downtown on a scrubby little plot of land. Neighbors swore the soil...