No Poem Is the Only Poem. No Story Is the Only Story. Celebrating Diversity Since 2015
He was a wriggling thing of eight his first time at sea. Until then he had had to watch as the men of the wharf sang their way down the docks.
The boy was awestruck as they creaked into their ships and slipped between the two vast and unforgiving blues.
I grew up in a town that boasts one stoplight, a grassed-over train track, and an abundance of barns. With woods that range from scenic to scary, depending on the time of day and the whereabouts of the neighborhood fisher-cat, we had all the trappings and small-town sentimentality of a Hallmark movie set, or a Stephen King backdrop.