The warm morning sun was shining on my skin, erasing the coolness of the dew that had fallen on me. The ground beneath me was hard and several jagged rocks were digging into my back. I knew that I should have been feeling some amount of pain from it, but I was only feeling a slight pressure. I couldn‟t feel much of anything except the heat from the morning sun and the sore scratchy feeling in my throat. My head was foggy, almost like I had been drugged. I wasn‟t sure why the scratching was turning into an awful burning sensation
A Shakespearean episode recreated in a Laundromat, philosophical musings inspired by a loveable pig, a telltale refrigerator-these are some of the compelling, humorous and irreverent imagery that awaits us in GARLAND. In this unforgettable collection of original poems, author Steve Smallwood uses his mastery of both wit and words to make even the…
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