Fiction
Spring 1990
Unholy
[early spring 1989] Dear Master— Last night I slept in Mutiny, woke surrounded by the scent of citrus, just as day dilated like an eye peering telescopically over a rough […]
Fiction
Spring 1990
From the Proscenium
[about 1989] My Dear Sir— The year thus far has gone Blank. True, it is a new one, but it is too cold thus far for any Weather to take […]