Frozen Fawn

Robert Wrigley Funny, by which I mean mysterious or eerie, the way I just happened to look out the western window of my shack at exactly that moment the morning sun— via the same opening in the heavy brush I glanced through—made the carcass shine unmistakably in the shape of what it was. Still, I… More

Proust

Robert Wrigley By the light of my reading lamp, she regards me, or regards the shape of me where I sit, the shadow I am, she being mostly blind. She’s lying on the couch, and it may be she is uncertain I am even here, for she was asleep when I entered the room and… More