Because My Shovel Kills

It is morning, the sun is shining, birds are calling and glinting dew is beaded along grass blades. Or, it is night, a moonless night, and stars are shining above the gardens, the neighborhoods, the beaches, the parking lots, the wars, the deceit, the lovers, the killers. In other words, You. Nothing changes anything. Because there is more than one way to read that, because of that time we drove in silence all...read more