Bear Fight

When Liza fell in with the bear, I was more than disappointed as I had been in love with her since childhood. “What’s he got that I don’t?” I asked as we walked past the diner together. “He’s a bear.” She let go of my hand. “He gets a little jealous when I’m out with

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Give It Up

Give up the dragons tattooed on your arms in blue and red, your proud captions in green, “Fight for yourself…. Make it Right…. Stand for something or nothing.” Give up waiting your turn, because no one gets a turn unless he takes it. Give up the constellations, which are always here and always missing, the

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Mud

Out of the river, mud climbed broken embankments, crooked staircases, gleaming hulls, the corpses of cows, the skulls of cars. Out of the river, mud entered our homes, roasted its dinners in our ovens, filled our glasses with gritty wine. At night, it made our beds, tucking sheets and spreading covers. Mud said its prayers

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