By Keith Burton i was stretching my legs on the littoralgiving names to the shapes of the cloudsthat swam across the lake’s reflectionwhen trouble came crawling on eight legs. help me across he asked with a period. i knew better; i had an owl’s acuity.no can do, i know you…
The report of my death was an exaggeration. –– Mark Twain By Michael Keith Ellie Murphy was finally leaving on the trip she had dreamed about her entire adult life. Her fascination with the Far East was born of a desire to track her great-grandmother’s roots in a tiny village…