mindsinger | May 16, 2009
We called him Scraps,
because he’d never give a name. He had these wrinkled up, yellowed papers that looked like they’d been folded at least a thousand times. He would spread them out across the oil cloth and stare at them while he ate.
We called him Scraps,
mindsinger | May 16, 2009
On this night two police cars came up the drive and knocked on her door at 9:30. When she answered it they asked if she owned a gun and could they inspect it.
Donna Swanson, poet, author, lyricist and artist, lives on the edge of the Great Prairie in Indiana. She has written and published seven books, soon to be eight, and is working on a chapbook trilogy of poetry introduced by Gloria Gaither. She has carved three full-size carousel figures and dozens of miniatures. Swanson writes two columns for her home-town newspaper: one for adults, Donna’s Country Roads, and one for children, Granny’s Place. Bible student and teacher of adult Bible classes for over thirty years, her poetry and prose are deeply rooted in her faith.
