Ode to Old Days of the Gorge

I stand resting both hands on the swollen wood before me as if bracing myself, watching thin roves of fog slip from their matron bulk and race away. The delayed and dulled roar of the mighty New below mingles with …

One Thousand Miles with a Stranger: From NOLA to WV on a Bicycle

While en route, on foot, to the library my stomach begins the sporadic fluttering I know so well to be nerves. I plant myself on the front steps and search for the small blue hatchback my partner has driven 12 …