Tag Archives: Sheila Black

My daughter gave him to me to keep by my bed. She said, “If we don’t feed him in time, he will die,” and she closed my fingers around him. Lithium battery pumping, cartoon dots signifying breathing, sometimes hearts or … Continue reading →

The fire loved the wood and you could tell because of how it lunged at the tree tops. And the crackling it made when it struck the juicy sap. And bubbling and frying smell mixed with sour pine. And the … Continue reading →

Not/re San/gre, Notre Sangre, which means our blood, written on the wall. And why a wall, what does the wall have to do with blood, except the story of walls which keep in or keep out? Not/re San/gre Our blood, … Continue reading →

I was interested to find in the Old West texts I read—oral histories, mostly, the accounts of Plains newsmen, the women described as if injured or incomplete “what their frail bodies will not bear,” that kind of thing, and the … Continue reading →