The mother of land,
She bleeds fire and spits death,
But for now, she sleeps.
How does it work?
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.
More stories from Jerry Liang and writers in Poets and other communities.
Lover from long past, how are you doing now I wonder? Does your long hair still brush the chair when you sit down? Do you still have the same laugh as I remembered from high school? Have you... got married... and have a soulmate and sweet children to put a smile onto your face every hour of the day?
By Jerry Liangabout 19 hours ago in Poets
I know the way things rot. Brown and white slime on sugar snap peas, black fuzz on applesauce uncovered and abandoned, the expanding plastic of a milk jug kept in the fridge weeks past the best by date,
By Kay Husnick7 days ago in Poets
As I laid motionless in bed, paralyzed and unable to cry out, I felt an ominous presence behind me. Slowly turning my head, my body remained frozen in place, unable to see what lurked in the darkness.
By spooky session4 days ago in Poets
[A story told to me over a decade ago by a Colombian immigrant, that I've attempted to put into writing. Any suggestions on how to improve this are very welcome.]
By Scott Christenson5 days ago in Interview
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.