REAL By Dori Miller
My life is a series of well-meaning texts, Written with a different connotation. There are very few things that are real anymore, iPhones aren’t real, film cameras are. Good music Continue Reading →
The place where creative writing lives.
My life is a series of well-meaning texts, Written with a different connotation. There are very few things that are real anymore, iPhones aren’t real, film cameras are. Good music Continue Reading →
I was in Sellwood park in Portland, Oregan with my family for the 4th of July. A holiday that in itself already put my Canadian father on edge. Americans Continue Reading →
Bone black under flesh Floating, fallingA silence that is only true in dark Whose edges will, dissipateIn slivers of moving skin They burned off your fleshto get to the boneThe pure white Continue Reading →
The seven legs of Sonnet slowly raised as motors turned shafts and shafts extended pistons. In a mechanical wave, the circular array of legs raised and groaned, then fell Continue Reading →
I am a person of little consequence! My heart rejoices to recall That I am as free as a wildflower, Ever lovely, ever small. I have learned that I am Continue Reading →