Commencement By Luke Stringer

Awash the world in wisps of rain and gray wet pavement, green and greener trees whose leaves so lushly let their trickling answers fall on empty streets, a hush of gauzy spring, withheld breath breathed at last, a dénouement of … Continue reading

Miss Oologah By Luke Stringer

I. You’d be hard pressed to find a man who’d say the name correctly on his first, or seventh, time; around her outskirts: ten odd minutes tops, then river bottoms, bluestem fields and hay; in barbed-wire folds she holds herself … Continue reading