Alice Beecher
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Sometimes you don\'t have to speak.A Story by Alice BeecherHe walked home and curled his cigarette into fourths, then eighths , then shards of incandescent paper. Michelle decided they should walk down the str.. |
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The Scent of Grass and CigarsA Poem by Alice BeecherWhen I look at the space between the meadows at the graphite road submerged under the weight of its own shadows, a graveyard for squirrels dead and.. |
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A Law of WakingA Poem by Alice BeecherIs there a law of waking that dictates I must lunge into last night's late cricks and cracks xamining every ancient word, now set and firmly said .. |
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GrandpaA Poem by Alice BeecherHe addresses his shirts like boxing champions midweight, heavyweight, light as a feather but he is not as nimble as a butterfly He is old. He.. |
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JulyA Poem by Alice Beechershe told herself that she could be delicious all lips and sweat and stained glass eyes that she could be crushed and distilled and devoured. .. |
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Tree StoriesA Story by Alice BeecherCalendar colored insects bite the popping cherry bundles from the purple moth infested ground. Soon a man will come and he will eat the cherries and h.. |
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[untitled]A Poem by Alice BeecherThey turned crystallized substances as they spun violin strings on the echoey hollow that splinters into the mouths of eight piece guitars The substa.. |
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Burning SilosA Poem by Alice BeecherThere were pretty people where I used to live inside silos dust houses her eyes would shine like marble candy she told me she could see the gh.. |
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