Philip Brooks lives in the wilds of Ohio with his wife, son, schnoodle, and four tortoises. His work has appeared in the Quarterly, Willow Springs, The Beloit Poetry Journal, and Mudlark.
Drama
Summer 1998
Physical History
(Dark stage, silence. A stumble and fall is heard. Lights up, revealing a man, the SUBJECT, struggling to his feet and moving purposefully to a seemingly designated spot upstage left. […]
May/June 2018
We’re Building Trees Again
I’ve never been much of a salesman. Though I skid on the dark turns, I don’t crash. Woods surround the field where the men were gathered. There’s a dead maple […]