Dog Killer It began like a baby crying, like many crying babies and like dogs barking. He awoke and sat up, suddenly aware of his heartbeat and the sounds outside. The room was cool and gray. At 6:00 a.m., the summer sun had topped the ridge and the rocky desert mountains lay bleached and baked. … [read more]
Home
Dry
Dry For Edward Michael McDonnell At seven thousand feet life dries and cracks, like old lumber behind the shed, mountain grasses brown and flattened, tinder crisp, sand drifting in the wind, down our dirt road, like lines in Dad’s face at eighty-seven. Dry is how I like it. Just enough air and moisture for a … [read more]