Beth Gordon

Odyssey by Beth Gordon

When the sun goes down my father climbs into a hole shaped liked the outline of his crane- folded body,…

5 years ago

Mixing Cocktails with JD by Beth Gordon

Gin and tonics are not the same without you he says as I walk out my back door. The mulberry tree…

6 years ago

Thug by Beth Gordon

Everyone thought my grandfather was a saint behind his white-toothed smile as sweet as butterscotch pie. He took his dog…

7 years ago

Boardwalk by Beth Gordon

It's been a long time since I've written in blood on brick walls just because they were there. Cold soup…

7 years ago

Washing Dishes With JD by Beth Gordon

  The light in Tucson, he said, the light and the landscape, it’s like walking on Mars, only warmer. Everything…

8 years ago

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