The Swamp of My Subconscious

I sprawl out over the sun-baked earth as if shoved. My hands burn from the scrape, and my face lands flat on its side. I get to my knees and blow dirt from my mouth. All around me is a barren wasteland. No vegetation or shade exists except for the thin dark clouds that blockContinue reading “The Swamp of My Subconscious”

87 Flips

“Dad! Can you smell that?” This is never a comfortable question coming from a four year old. “What Benny?” “It’s Spring!” I smile. He’s a few months early, but I smell it too. Last week the thermometer in my truck registered -4º F. Yesterday, February 5th, it was 53ºF and sunny. Winter in Connecticut. AsContinue reading “87 Flips”