Social media has provided me with the chance to meet with some of the coolest people. They are everywhere when you are right like I or you know how to look. If neither of those is you, then you may need some help. Jimmy Mays posts about his tale and the bits as it goes… Continue reading A story about a man named Mays.
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The sound of trees.
She was waving her arms like she wanted to speak to me. I rolled down my window. “You hear that! The trees, they are speaking.”I could see from my vantage the dancing of and swaying of them and know well that rising and waning wrapping of wind rushing about as it pleases. She had a… Continue reading The sound of trees.
The idea really hadn’t crossed his mind until he saw the spoon sitting in the washroom sink one day.
It was a serving spoon, the one the cafeteria lady used to pass out generous portions to the varieties of boys and girls, called in table order through the line before her every day. She always made him a large plate, wrapped and stored aside, the paper would be soggy when he got it so… Continue reading The idea really hadn’t crossed his mind until he saw the spoon sitting in the washroom sink one day.
It began as a jar on a hill in Tennessee.
And it became a wood duck in the middle of Lick Creek, which looks a lot like a ditch in Tennessee. The idea is interesting though. How does one piece of alternate order reestablish the understanding so entirely? In that moment, my world stopped around a male wood duck, about as a striking an animal… Continue reading It began as a jar on a hill in Tennessee.