What you are looking at is my online creative writing journal. This journal, designed to track and trace myself as a poet, welcomes critiques and responses.
Thursday, March 19, 2015
Junkyard 4 week 11
Out near the right turn, past the site of a tractor flip, lies a fallen tree. Behind the tree, a trickling waterfall, too weak and dried up for rappelling. There's no water here. A river canoe tour shop closed up a year ago because of drought. Now, you can see a little white chair stuck in the middle of where the river would be. Someone also drowned a canoe there too. Somewhere, does a mother mourn her son? Or did he swim away?
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