All Posts By: Byron McCoy

        Daydreaming, she thought of soccer in youth again—bursts of speed, sharp of cuts, and how she could lift and place a ball precisely where she wished.           Years and ages and time ago, she thought of now and how—a little slower, more easily tired, less crisp and sharp in cut—foot […]

        They watched the river slow-roll past, high sides of the banks in low of summer’s run, mud’s crack and peel where what once was covered dried and broke on August’s sun.           From the trees that lined high side of bank, crickets and cicadas called, and to the songs, in […]

               “Another Bloody Church…” she joked in chide and tease of self and memory of a past, but this one not in foreign place but land and soil of her home.                One point in time, the church had stood in immanence over city.  Now, height and site were inverted—a hole in the sky and […]