the Re-Earthing of Mother Father found the fox outside, digging. Its feline nose pressed into the dirt, its ringletted tail upward. He tried to shoo it off. Shoo, he said, git. The vixen turned and faced him briefly. Father said, good lord, those damned eyes. And the fox kept digging. Its fore paws and little,…
Vacation’s End original published by Door is a Jar Desert all around, dust and hillspire and dots of antelope. A family of four ride the highway West. Old car. Oldish father, mother. Two children in the backseat. The daughter clamors to the window. Nostril imprint, blue-purple lips. “Can’t we stop?” she nearcries. The father huffs.…
Michael Farfel 