He didn’t know where he could go He just stood alone on the shore. The boat was swamped and the oar was lost The fog made his vision poor. Stuck in the muck And all out of luck He’d time to wonder what was in store.         He didn’t walk across the marsh For muddy clothes are unbecoming.

I made some assumptions about you From the first time we met. Most of them turned out to be true, But I have more to find out yet.               From the first time we met, You made us laugh at your jokes that day. But I have more to find out yet If you really meant them that way.           You made

This is the worst of times. I, a single dog in possession Of a particularly dirty tennis ball, Am in want of you.   I wanted to play yesterday, And the larks, bravely singing, Flew away when I called. Et tu? I bark the knell of your funeral   Bells, bells, bells, Nevermore to hear you call, “Treats for the sweet!” I

I took a drive the night 2020 ended.   I had taken several drives before this. When the world went quiet--or at least quarantined, since many of us did not go gentle into that good night--driving on roads that had at least a few other drivers on it became one of my only avenues for human connection outside of my quarantined

It’s funny how often we as humans enclose God within a little capsule of impossibility.   Even without knowing it, we are constantly making assumptions about God. We look at a person, situation, or our own selves and think… “There’s no way.” “He/she will never change.” “No good can come of this.” “Things will only ever get worse.

“Sara is so nice. I just love that about her.” “I like Lauren because she’s sweet.”   “I’ve never heard Chloe say a mean thing to anyone.” I sat in the middle of a large classroom in a wooden fold-down chair. The floor sloped sharply downward toward the front of the room like the sale barn back home, where

“Who’s ready for more wings?” Chance punched two fists into the air. A round of cheers went up, the guys ready to celebrate that their team had won.   “No, Chance. I’m sorry. I’ve got to get home.” Ryan stood up and put some cash on the table to pay for his portion of wings and the diet

To read the first part of “In the Dark,” check out Volume 2, Issues 5 in the Inkwell Literary Magazine’s online archive.         “We have to do something,” Ellis said for the thousandth time. Wade watched his sister and Ellis talking, hunched over. The whole city was talking about the town meeting earlier in the day, and Wade, Gemma, and

To read the past parts of “Pirate Hunters,” check out Volume 2, Issues 2, 3, and 5 in the Inkwell Literary Magazine’s online archive.       A few days (more than I care to recall) after the battle with Vaydor’s men in A Coruña, we put into port at Lisbon, the Portuguese capital. A small naval vessel stopped us as

“Erik, dae ye ken the wind Roving o’er Swaeden? Wha’s the cloud, the billow’d smoke Wi’ danger heavy-laden?”         Erik didna ken the wind; He didna ken the smoke. An’ nae a lad could trace the storm Tae Russia, where i’ woke.     There the fields o’ fulvous grain Lie fallow in th’ wake; There the tsars wi’ tremors