Jae Hodges
             Author, Photographer, Genealogist, Traveler
The Abstracted Artist

Poetry

Abiquiu Calls

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Abiquiu calls, night

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desert under flourescent

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lights, to her I speak

Short(er) Stories

Lost and Found

Beyond the cracked sidewalk, and the telephone pole with layers of flyers in a rainbow of colors, and the patch of dry brown grass there stood a ten-foot high concrete block wall, caked with dozens of coats of paint. There was a small shrine at the foot of it, with burnt out candles and dead flowers and a few soggy teddy bears. One word of graffiti filled the wall, red letters on a gold background: Rejoice!

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There was something familiar about this, something she knew she should recognize, something like a hummingbird flitting and chirping around in her memory but never still long enough for her to catch it. She sat down on the ground with her back against the pole, hugging her knees to her chest, and she studied everything in front of her.

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See the rest of the story in the Archive.