Nothin' Quite Like Giving Up-novel excerpt Dust Choked and Sore
Thick, chalk smothered air blows around me. Everything closes in more in the summer. Humidity. Goals. I brace for the lift. Grit is willing to do and willing something to be done, but in the end, even the strongest muscles in your body are at the mercy of your grip. There are ways to save your grip. Farmers know that it is their grip that will save them. I was raised by a farmer. “Fingers are amazing,” Dad had said. Chunked. Gnarled. Folded over. Stretched out. I
Two Lines of Poetry
The book was just one, Of one hundred and twenty Books Assigned to years Two languages Two lines of poetry. I laugh because yesterday I...
