I have mislaid territories that are no longer mine, not now, not this time around.… Read More “LOST LANGUAGE by Charlene Moskal”

Late afternoon early winter intones silent – nature’s melancholy breathes aquiet chill adorned on the best of days by cold sunshine, on the dullest, gray  shrouded landscapes, widow’s shawls.… Read More “A QUIET CHILL by Charlene Moskal”

The knob on the door could be locked from the inside, difficult to jimmy open if anyone wanted in.… Read More “OASIS by Charlene Moskal”