LATEST STORIES
Uploaded May 9th, 2025
HARK, HARK, THE DOGS DO BARk
Hark, hark, the dogs do bark / The beggars are coming to town / Some in tags, some in rags / And some in velvet gowns. Mother Goose
The main road leading into town is not paved. It is drained and ditched for winter snow and it has gravel on its surface, but it is rough and rutted, too rough to be inviting, as the residents of this town had intended. There is no directional sign and no road name. The little road comes off US 30 in the heart of Nebraska at a nondescript junction with only a row of mailboxes in evidence. Washboard rattles its course and stones scar its surface. A random traveler coming upon this dreary intersection might stop and follow with their eye the road’s rise and fall to see it disappear over a bare hill and determine not to go that way for it looks too tedious and difficult for casual curiosity.
Artwork by A.M. Williams
Uploaded March 8th, 2025
the rage of a wildfire
See, I grow immensely! I am eating the hill. I leap off the cliff. I plunge into the canyon. I stand on the ridge. Brother wind is at my back. I swallow whole, the mountains and pastures. I am a magnificent presence, feeding on everything I touch and stir. They are above me now, in the skies with hapless buckets of water tinkling down…
~ thule ~
I recently received an email from a Norwegian scientist, a longtime, if distant, colleague and mentor. The letter disclosed that he was near the end of his life and it was with great urgency he was sending this request for me to come to him as soon as possible. He had long been holding knowledge of utmost importance that he must pass on before it was too late. This research had never been recorded anywhere in the considerable body of work that he would be leaving behind. It resided only in his own, now most temporal, head. Would I please drop everything and come to him, with all possible haste?…
