Author: January River

How fungible, how changeable, how curious is memory. How unreliable.

Does the color pink actually exist? Did you ever just look at your hand and think, whoa?

The experience of having a kiddo has paid off in laughter and tears, and copious amounts of art.

I like stories where you have to make some inferences and think a little to understand what’s actually happening. If that’s your jam, here are three of mine.

Here are three poems that make use of metaphor to (cleverly?) disguise what it is that the speaker is talking about.

This week, three poems about places in time, and space, and memory.

This week, some slightly creepy stories from the back catalog.