Robert Estep

Why do the old men remember the details of a life they lived at five…

It had seemed like an eternity from that moment in your twelve-year old life when…

Aquinas took a drag, tossed the lighter back to Mary and passed off to Maurice:…

Their eyes shine like stars. Make a little piece of that. She circled each word…

An actress or. Be very careful what you are afraid of. When Mary was twelve…

Wild ginger smelled metallic, the cool wind lifting lightly, playfully through the hair stranding her…

Someone from Really Red had had the bright idea (and bright it was) to use…

On Ten Fingers My gaze a tuning fork’s hum the intervals of my bloodstream fall…

In the pale afternoon … In the pale afternoon the sun sinks into its sunset,…

Is the novel dead? If not, it is the most absurdly complacent of art forms,…