Miracles swarm in the Mississippi delta in summertime. The blooms overwhelm me, reminders of what lives between the lived-in spaces at the limits of my vision. Where do they come from? Who created them? Are they a blessing from above, or a curse from below? Most importantly, should I call an exterminator? * A miracle…
Author: Daniel Uncapher
Five Imaginary Babes
In time I’ve had five babies. The first one was boneless and meatless; it was a puggish fold of skin, and I would throw it on the ground in disgust where it would puddle up and gurgle little flatulent gusps that were almost cute but stank like dank pot. Within a few days, having accidently…