These scribbles, written on a wall near Harborview Hospital, stopped me cold. As I read them--amazed, amused, bemused--a homeless woman called out to me. Could I give her money for food?
I just left the Cherry Street Food Bank, I said. It's less than a block away and they're serving lunches right now.
She swore at me, and, hitching up her skirt, sat down on the trunk of a parked car.
Voicelessness and despair aside--snarky I know--it's been an insanely busy week. Last Thursday I had the pleasure of ushering with a g...
Ever wondered what it takes to get a piece of fiction published? I'm not talking New Yorker type of prose. That's a rarefied world ...
Check out my new video, a brief reading from a story published this past spring in Opossum.
Welp, after a half-year experiment in social media, BSP has returned to its blogger roots. I hated Faceborkland, tbh. Sure, it was easier t...