• Poems,  Works

    An Idea of Tomorrow

    Pencil drop, A teacher provides Out of pocket. It’s their own dime. Yet, passed amidst discord, She cannot see nor sneer Upon such meager coin. She holds too dear Without fear Her own dime. Now is the time To live…WITHIN our time To see that which plagues Or fellow’s friend And to welcome those Who learn strife Is always the days bitter end. Why not be better? We are better. Open our arms. Open your arms. Do not let inequity rule Nor the golden house Once white fall To this gilded flame Of populist rancor Fueled By a divide bled between us. Remember first who we are. American First? That is…

  • Short Stories,  Works

    Fly Catcher’s Children

    Arieth glanced each way up the road to check for cars. All clear. Now or never, she told herself. With a deep breath, she inched her way towards the door of the Fly Catcher’s shop, her small frame shivering in her tightly buttoned peacoat, only partly due to the autumn chill. She blew a rogue strand of her curly red hair from her eyes. Why did she forget her hat again? Can’t remember everything. The shop was an unobtrusive place, nestled between a barber shop and an art gallery, having no windows, just a single aged sign, made of brass lettering, faded as if the hand of polish had not…

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