Writers Are People
R. Levin | 10/25/2021

A writer naturally befriends other writers.  Goes with the territory.  Personally, I always enjoy these relationships.  Share a little, learn a lot. I can’t recall feeling challenged by others who write.

Sculpted
R. Levin | 09/26/2021

Four mud-sculpture statues with expressionist faces of clay – one male, three female. Full lips. Wide-open demonstrative eyes; their gaze frozen. All hankering to speak out. But they cannot.

California Streaming
R. Levin | 09/05/2021

A drive north, up the central coast, never fails to inspire.  The air grows dramatically fresher.  Cleaner.  Crisper.  Drifting a tad closer to nature. Reinvigorates my spirits.  Rejuvenates my soul. 

After My Fall
R. Levin | 08/24/2021

Today, the outside I see appears hazy. Plain and simple. Misty with an occasional blast of drizzle.  I pretend I’m elsewhere. I want to change everything but my thoughts remain...

Firwood Crossing
S.R. Landon | 08/05/2021

Karl Gorton lived near the end of a windswept cul de sac in Firwood. His daughter Colleen, now based in Indonesia, had gone to Bali on vacation and fallen in...

East to the Sun
S.R. Landon | 12/30/2020

We were arrogant, ignorant, totally unprepared.  Disaster struck hard.  We let it.  Shame on us.  Narcissism, greed and selfishness took over. Fools ruled. Never again. No looking back.

Shattered Lens
S.R. Landon | 11/11/2020

A trail of fresh impressions scar the ash.  Two sets of footprints – one female, one male.  Ginny and I, the only two humans. Not another anywhere. Blood drips from a...

Burnished Figments
Isaiah Lowney-Piazzalunga | 10/27/2020

Halloween is fast approaching. I am a half-chewed bone and it is a salivating hound running me down. It is a besotted pigeon and I'm a dry, dry breadcrumb. So...

Robotic Dreams
S.R. Landon | 10/20/2020

Cruising through another post-pandemic day.  I stopped counting.  Another 24 marked with measured caution.  Resembles life on another planet.  Or inhabiting an ever-evolving cosmos.

Reflections
Isaiah Lowney-Piazzalunga | 08/18/2020

The small green bottle circled around, clanging against the prop-up breakfast-in-bed type table, which he’d set up next to his relatively inert and positively relaxed body. He was not exactly...