By Phibby Venable An angel was perched delicately on the straight back chair in the corner, but everyone pretended not to see her. At least it appeared that way to fifteen – year old Katie, who couldn’t take her eyes off the golden wings and slim figure. “Mama, don’t you…
A poem based on The Pale King by David Foster Wallace By Cynthia McGarvie An alfalfa breeze. Socks’ burrs. Dry scratching inside a culvert. Rusted wire incised in the sun all day until hardened, worms incised in the lead. A horse smells the worms incised in the wing, silent with…