By Susan Bedwell Amos She is joy that flows out of every shy glance, knowing look and mischievous wink; she is warmth that touches everyone lucky enough to pass within her orbit, whether by the brush of gentle fingertips or the embrace of caring arms; she is love - true north, the genuine article, a … Continue reading Susan Bedwell Amos: On S.G. Baker →

By Jenette Baker She stood by the water and smelled the ocean breeze. A storm was brewing and she welcomed the intense power that would electrify her spirit. I spoke with her for a time. I learned that it was the written word that she loved to communicate with the most. She was quick and … Continue reading Jenette Baker: On S.G. Baker →

How the fuck do I still work here? I am a millennial, we don't stay at one job for too long. Now I have been here for over 5 years. At least I have work friends, some of whom are also sugar friends. Today I brought in some Sour Patch Kids and need to let Summer know. I dial her extension and hear her answer as "Queen of Chaos." 

By Robert Baker She stood on the pinnacle gazing at the masses in the valley below, the wind blowing her short hair gently across her un-furrowed brow. As she assessed the scene below, she moved her hand to the sword sheath that carried her sword, a mighty ball point pen. Her shield, the words she … Continue reading Robert Baker: On S.G. Baker →

By Jeffrey Schiller What is the difference between Rock and Metal? Mental refinement--something like properly aged wine that comes with hard work, but sold at a reasonable price. The manifestation of that complex emotional ore vein hammered into something intelligent walks into the room. Pocket protector fully stocked. Too many keys swing from his belt … Continue reading Jeffrey Schiller: On Martin Jacobsen →

It wasn't until I heard a subdued cackle at the mention of my character, Darrin The Defenestrator, that I noticed her.

By Joshua Edwards The first thing one noticed about her was a certain sense of friendly aloofness; she seemed to watch and process the world in a curiously intent manner, spending the spoken word in a rather cautious way that illustrated that mighty currency's inherent value

By Martin Jacobsen Her name is Summer, yet she is a Dame of Fall. Like a deciduous autumn tree, her understated stateliness, firm and reaching upward, presides over her russet hair, and ivory skin in the same way branches undergird similarly colored leaves. Like those leaves, she presents shades of being that detach and give way … Continue reading Martin Jacobsen: On S.G. Baker →