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Between Drinks
“A hollow feeling opens inside me. Like I missed something. Like I let go of something I didn’t know I was holding.”
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“I constantly pray they’ll grant me the favor of a single outburst, a twitch, a hint that I share her pain, that I still do something—anything.”

In a rain-darkened Irish town, a woman comes home to an apartment emptied of its other inhabitant but not of his presence. Erin Gaura’s “Bed Linens” explores separation, anxiety and…

“But the Unconscious never forgets. Everything has been preserved for eternity.” Pasted markdown

“I know why you wanted me to come tonight. Thanks. But remember, I’m an old Naval Aviator with a swollen prostate … and just like this pee, change will not…

For me, the question is: what is in the sky above the fig leaves? Is the man still beneath the fig tree? I wanna return to that photograph, look up…

Three poems trace addiction, exile, loneliness, and memory through surreal images where writing becomes a ritual of survival.

An essay on why vivid prose centers action rather than characters, showing how pronouns can conceal weak sentences and stall narrative momentum.