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Martha Clarkson
Babysitting we were paid almost nothing back in the 70s and seemed destined to have brats who fabricated facts (with admirable persistence) about candy and bedtimes I once threatened a child with a knife albeit a dull, rounded butter knife (and of course I didn’t mean it) things just got to that point. Sunday School…
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Paul Smith
There was a girl from Arizona I didn’t think much of she was rather ordinary short hair square shoulders you wouldn’t give her a second look She really wasn’t from there neither was I we found ourselves where our lives took us away from universities and libraries full of books We had eager conversations about…
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Beverly A. Jackson
not in water— not whale or porpoise seeking sonar depths, tiles of sun trapped in surface glint— but the wet ooze, the slackjawed, spooky renegade of slosh and wave, tidal flood, blind mammoth rolled in slumber, sexed up with trailed sperm, seaweed, over sands awhorl in fierce unrest, tails of skates whipping the floors or…
