by Wesley R. Bishop

“True men don’t cry,” my father told me the day the pony threw me to the ground. “Those who do, walk home.”

by Wesley R. Bishop

“Hell was now making all of Heaven’s products, the Angels had all been privatized, and speculation on harps had created a bubble. God walked away, shaking his head is disbelief…Around him Heaven groaned, a now celestial Hooverville.”

by Wesley R. Bishop

“…why not build a microscope for Hell? What Southern ghosts, what Titans of Industry, what fathers and mothers scream in those shadows?”

by Wesley R. Bishop

“…the train only sped faster, and from its windows he saw his boy again, laughing among ghosts not yet dead, faces contorted in glee and doom.”

by Wesley R. Bishop

“It’s like Shakespeare said, some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others are Millard Fillmore.”

by Wesley R. Bishop

“In the warm light of the new epoch, an Era of Good Feelings unfurled: one party, one voice, not everyone invited.”

by Wesley R. Bishop

“The Father of this Nation spoke of liberty. He wore its cost in his mouth.”