Don ReardenApr 7, 20171 min readFire Startermy neighbor brought a boxnarrow strips of leftover cedarfresh cut, ends poking outthe smell fills our small home kindling, he saidand before I stackpieces into the stove's bellyI sniff each board and burn with guilt
my neighbor brought a boxnarrow strips of leftover cedarfresh cut, ends poking outthe smell fills our small home kindling, he saidand before I stackpieces into the stove's bellyI sniff each board and burn with guilt
The Dead AI version of Me: A Living Author's Exploration of Artificial Intelligence and a Dead Version of Himself [Part 1 of a 3 Part Series, Written by the Real, and Not-Dead-Yet Don Rearden]
So Long, Aprilthen in came the winds screaming down the mountain the giant hemlock shaking angry as us all that the end of April feels like the end of Fall and now snow does with the gust white whirling snow devils