Latest Works

1867, two years after the war ended, five years after Antietam, 22,700 and more dead at Sharpsburg, arms and legs scattered around me...

Outside it’s snowing. Again. Hard. Already new-white blankets the off-white of last week’s storm on the campus of our mid-sized college...

I nearly set the date— I always put great stock in astrology. And with our planets so aligned I moved with a false confidence. My bouts...