Courtesy of Midjourney.
Yellow-bellied youth.
Your yearnings yester yelping.
Yoke yanking you.
Yell.
Yearn.
Where I Belong
When did going back home start to feel like a vacation in the past? I can see memories playing out in front of me again everywhere I go, my first kiss under the streetlight up the road from my mother's house, running stairs during volleyball practice by the middle school entrance,
By Kay Husnick4 days ago in Poets
The Boy, The Duck, and The Goose
He looks up like a reader interrupted mid-paragraph. The little duckling he had been shelling corn to runs off to its mother. A woman sits down next to him. Her face looks just as long as his, the void of loss in her life as palpable as his.
By Noah Glenna day ago in Fiction
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