Postcard from a Nude Beach
30 January 2008
Vol. 7, No. 4
poetry, prose poem
The waves, as if they were ashamed, roll up to it tentatively, and just before they reach the shore, they turn back.
Undecided
28 January 2008
Vol. 7, No. 4
poetry, prose poem
On the treadmill, he did not know if he was walking forward or backward. It was the same when he was stopped in traffic and the cars started to move and his car seemed to be drifting backward and he slammed on the breaks.