Thirteen months after his wife’s passing, the words appeared, scratched deep into her writing desk:
The streets are paved with flesh and bone
The mortar’s mixed with blood
The stench of death pervades the air
Displaced eyeballs glare and stare
I cannot find you anywhere
Out here among the dead.
Devon R. Widmer plans to continue writing at least until the end of this life.
On Christmas morning,
in the darkness before dawn,
all the stars shifted,
arranging themselves
into sharp, crisp letters
twenty miles high,
spelling out
“God Knows.”
Every creature saw the miracle
in the language they understood best.
And those without language,
millions of children among them,
saw it better than anyone.
Over the years Bob Thurber’s work has received a long list of awards and prizes. His most recent book is a collection of brief stories titled “Nothing But Trouble.” His first novel, “Paperboy: A Dysfunctional Novel,” was recently rereleased. Visit BobThurber.net.
He stands at the corner where we exit the highway. He holds up a sign with “smiling is easy” written on it. He waves the sign wildly at me, and makes me smile. He smiles back. He has a long white beard and a bicycle.
Where will he go tonight?
Deanna is new to any kind of writing, but is happily becoming addicted. Perhaps it’s because writing requires a lot of very dark chocolate.