by Beth Bentley
During spring break Debbie Schwartz and I would bike
from south Minneapolis to the boathouse near the U.
The water-soaked musk of the dock, the pungence of rotting
Enveloped in fog the rowboat with its three occupants . . .
by Christopher Buckley
Twilight was a short burn before the blue
bruise a day wears into—autumn ending,
tossing its black trees low against the sky,
the shoulders of the air slumped a bit, gone
ochre at the dim earth’s blunted edge . . .
by Geraldine Connolly
The appointment is my first.
A whole hour is mine. Each square
of hair parts under Mimi’s comb,
each wisp pinched into a silver clip.
by Leo P. Ribuffo
In the seven and a half years since he left the White House, Jimmy Carter has acquired a reputation as the great aberration of recent American history. To conservative Republicans, he represents the heretical view that it is no longer “morning in America,” but rather a malaise-laden Sunday night. While most liberal Democrats prefer to forget Carter entirely, neo-liberals advocate many of Carter’s ideas without mentioning Carter himself.
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