Connective Tissue: Part II

Glenn Ashley Paterson In a forest of starlings there is no sound. This worries me. Should there not at least be a muttering? … I once read— this was how you died, in whispers that you did not hear— but I only heard the last blood returning from her fingertips. … Last night I spent… More

Connective Tissue

Glenn Ashley Paterson Someone whistles in the parking garage and the echo settles in the spaces between rows of parked cars. … In one moment she is the world drowning in rain. In the next, she is nothing more than the candle I am falling asleep by. … The words in my head quiver with… More