Time Machine

by Dunya Dianne McPherson Alone at Ravenrock, I'm in a time machine. I read Virginia Wolf's essays, written hundred years ago, as if they are written now while living in a place without electricity or running water that could've been typical in a rural setting a century ago. Only the occasional highflying 747, a propane [...]

Shellacking the Tea Tray

The time after my father’s death. I feel like a washing machine waiting for the agitation cycle to finish. While my hips take their sweet time to heal as an external measure of the life transition sloshing under my lid, I get out the shellack to keep myself busy and away from meddling with my […]