William Baer

Ducking inside, escaping the thundershowers, you see her surrounded with color-mad displays of roses, tulips, lilies, mysterious flowers, blooming plants, and wildly-fragrant bouquets. “What are these?” you stupidly smile and say, “They’re Elegante hybrids from Ecuador, deep velvety red, . . . . Continue Reading »

I follow the rank corpse, holding my breath, prepared to bury my son forevermore; a widow left with nothing, nothing but death, who prays, but doesn’t know what she’s praying for. Suddenly, the multitudes appear following the Rabbi at Niam’s Gate, who meets my eyes and whispers, . . . . Continue Reading »