Tim Hawkins Statuary We stand by the rail in the cool night air, her shoulders moonlight pale and smooth as stone, the offer of my jacket too late to avoid the oncoming shrug. Tim Hawkins sometimes eats his beans with the patience of a saint.
Read MoreTim Hawkins Eighteenth Birthday Endless summer nights of bonfires roaring within, darkness at the periphery, sparks like fireflies filling the empty spaces. Tim Hawkins stepped out of a bar in Skagway, Alaska, along with two bellicose loggers squaring off with chainsaws, and decided to walk to Mexico where a dead horse was burning on the […]
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