By which we mean— what happens without warning and stops almost as quickly as it comes. A story the size of a postcard, or even just a few sentences. A warning announced by short, metallic beeps, drones on the radio. A light- house beam sweeping over rocks and water. Water and more water—rushing through fields and towns, crumpling solid brick walls and buildings in its wake. A sudden flood, and strings of silos on their side. The shiny BMW that cost as much as a house, dangling from one end of a bridge.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.