Scoundrel Time

Author - Karen Brennan

Stranger Than Fiction

Outside my window The appearance of many cobs Without webs The naked Old lady dreams under her oppressive coverlet Her small head empty At this hour What if the rain fell sturdily The brain waving to a person In a car Did I say “coverlet” Donald...

Requiem

  I woke up one morning and my country was gone. It was strange. It had been there the night before, sparking and hissing, but now it was gone. I could feel its absence in the air, which is a feeling like no other. The garden was still there...