Between Grief and Joy The beaten path is nondescript, a right of way through pristine lawns and tree-lined streets of gracious homes, well-shaded in the heat of day and sound as caves on winter nights, with mantled fires burning low to warm the dens of hibernating souls. You head due south beyond the park and […]Read more "Between Grief and Joy"
When We Go the robots are busy cleaning up after us: the dust in the rugs, the dander on the couch the tangles of hair left in the blankets the corpses piled in the doorway. everything is sucked up by evidence-erasing nozzles poured into black garbage bags separated and incinerated. eventually, there will be nothing […]Read more "When We Go"