Wood Shed Writers
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I sought you out hoping to find my prophet, but I only succeeded in burying a martyr. Outside, the wind… more ›
troubled againand sleepless climbed outmy bedroom window sat on the eavejutting out beneath itsat in the night and with itout… more ›
It was a long stretch, maybe too long, when his instructor said it was time. “Time for what?” he asked. … more ›
Rememberingthe day the ship finallycame into port.Wicked cold –so windy too, that morning –needed an overcoat, a scarf.The only clouds… more ›
Queen Anne’s Lace. Grown in odd groups. Five, seven-never two.The clumps and the spaces between.The Voids separate and merge together… more ›
Sorry, SZA. Saturn has 146 moons and probably one hell of a werewolf problem. Google AI told me that the… more ›