If you can count your friends on more than one hand, you’re mistaken.                 —Michael G. Kew, 1986-2004 Someone left a walrus, knew you would like a walrus by himself chuffing in the watery flowers, the bob of petunias on granite. A plastic ring bereft of its price-tag adorns a tendril of cast-iron sun staked into the ground, tagged like cattle. It doesn’t move … Continue reading Trinkets by Cody Kucker