Hound Dog Blues

In October, the dullest month of all, two rapists escaped from Sugarloaf Detention Center. The dogs tracked them through Miller's Farm, through pumpkins large as toddlers, through the discarded rubbers of puerile lovers in another road-side field, and finally into my crop of secluded grain. Pheasant swarmed like maudlin incubi at the sight of them, … Continue reading Hound Dog Blues



Deep in the desert, sand¬†stuck to my skin like moss on one of those river rocks, I pull my horse down through¬†the fried dirt and cactus, looking into dusk at the pinpoint lights of some struggling town. I haven't eaten in days and the regret pushes me toward them, those sleepy ones just cleaning the … Continue reading Desperado