Writing about zombies on Easter Sunday may be sacrilegious, but soul-less, reeking, walking dead things aren’t the point. Soul-hurting, desperate, walking living things are. Continue reading “What Zombies Wish They Could Tell You: An Easter Poem”
There is a bird watching me through the living room window. Or is it watching the television? Its head turns sharply toward me again, then back to the television. For all I know it’s following an outside reflection, but its tiny-eyed glances are rather precise between this large-headed Homo sapiens and the flashing picture machine set opposite the couch.
My wife enters the room and confirms this is the same bird that’s been coming and going every few days, sometimes every day, motioning through the same routine. And I’m curious. Continue reading “Bird Watching”