About Michael Guerin

to catch each tear and hold them close like precious dew on a mountain slope or liquid ... CONTINUED

snow falls. from my back specks of gray dance and swirl in random circles high overhead as ... CONTINUED

a lone figure crests the dune. her cloak flaps behind tossed by a gale of searing heat. she ... CONTINUED

in a distant city far from the center of town an empty coffee shop opens its windows to the ... CONTINUED

sometimes i can still imagine him standing at the edge of a west egg dock peering through the ... CONTINUED

trees skeletal and severe in the moonlight stretch their bony fingers skyward as if pleading for ... CONTINUED

"your skin is my skin," she said. "your lips are my lips, your heart my heart." beyond parable ... CONTINUED