by David Griffith
The were finishing the prison outside Cooperedge, taking applications, and Ernie, whose hope ran far out ahead of his reason, claimed our chances of landing guard jobs were good because of the security training we’d received at Adam’s Landing. I didn’t really want a prison job, but I rode along to apply because it was out of the usual run of things.
by Norma Marder
Mama was a little tired that day, more than a little tired, but she walked six blocks to the doctor along tree-lined Brooklyn streets, leaning on her shopping cart. Late afternoon, the end of September, leaves falling. She was eighty-eight, a small, tough woman, half deaf. “I don’t give up,” she liked to say, “you know me.”
by Dara Wier
I’m afraid of your teeth, your riding
Instructions, and your skirt.
Your tread boards and your newels
Liquefy my muscle and bone.
Your opaque balustrades frighten me,
Your transparent ones cut me to the core.
by Elton Glaser
It’s one of those mornings when you
Feel you were born
In some little horse-piss town in Texas.
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