Tag: AS Coomer

Published Date: 2016-08-04
Posted in Fiction
I’m a native Kentuckian currently riding out a purgatorial existence in the arctic Midwestern abyss. I catch glimpses of the bluegrass sometimes, when the sun is exceptionally blinding and making a rare appearance. I can still feel the cool Nolin River on my feet when I slip out of my snow-soaked boots. When I sink the shovel into the mounds of winter-refuse I can still–sometimes–imagine I’m actually just raking the burning leaves of my parents’ backyard trees.
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