Bill Kimzey

I've been reading Elaine Barry's Robert Frost on writing . In 1932, in a letter to protégé Kimbal Flaccus, Frost wrote (pg. 111): ...

A butterfly settled on the salty lip The sun behind it boomed I found myself in a flight path The margaritas bounced and for what ...

First red. A new Mazda. Then the uprooted sidewalk and Taylor Swift from a boom box. A red, white and blue paper lantern fading in ...

Eau de Joy My girlfriend picked roses from the landlord’s garden and put them in a vase. The roses were mostly yellow; the petal tips, f...

I cannot breathe. I am swaddled in paper dark in a box with mummied glasses and candlesticks. I am not upset with you stowing me here, but y...

For the User Experience The UX artist chose us because we’re ripe and isolated. (Or did she step our siblings flat then shoot fro...

The Sense of Grief                 “The countless that love caused to lose their lives” – Dante Inferno, Canto V Cinderella and other ...