Wood Shed Writers
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Every year my dad took me and my mother on our traditional summer vacation. This year would be different. We… more ›
Thomas once explained string theory to me. I understood it only superficially: each sentence made sense in and of itself,… more ›
Let’s talk about Elin Roth. Once — and not even that long ago — she had a voice. Her prose… more ›
In a hospital for contagious diseases, Camden, New Jersey, 1948-49 And other places at around that time Danny could not… more ›
Part One My scout, a local investigator who had gone ahead of me into the breech, warned me that I… more ›
“That must be them. Four of them, yes, but now they’re just sitting in their car.” Quint whispered out the… more ›
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this poem is about the kitchen, it’s about an ancient, seasoned, cast iron skillet so black, so deep, one should… more ›
Earl watched the smoke dissipate around the bare light bulb. “It’s only when you can be totally open that nothin’… more ›
It is 4:15 p.m. Dinnertime. The crowd roars on the TV in the living room area adjacent to the dining… more ›