Anthophobia
by Bret Shepard

Because the car drives too fast into nothing but horizon and other cars look like flowers out of focus, broken alive in fields. Because you can’t believe how a bed oscillates between comfort and suffocation by sheets. Because flowers replace gravesites like candles replace light the body needs. Because smells live deeper than touch. Because … Continue reading Anthophobia
by Bret Shepard

Cemetery
by Bret Shepard

Flowers like credit card offers. Petals pulled away like eyelids from bulbs. I can’t even watch your plot.   Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 21, Issue 4. After living in Alaska and California, Bret Shepard completed his PhD at the University of Nebraska. Currently, he lives in Tacoma, Washington and teaches at Green River … Continue reading Cemetery
by Bret Shepard