I hear Ezra Pound croaked without making a sound. No last rasp as his crooked legs crashed. I hear your aunt passed. I apologize. “I am nothing but bereft for her.” This is a chant & I realize 89% of Americans die in a hospital. Or so I hear. Or so it goes. & my. »
Poetry by Laurel N.
Do not buy the lettuce
those frothy topped leaves
are festering with bugs.
Soft-bodied caterpillars follow
their jaws dragging their bulging
green weight. Imagine. »
Nonfiction by Christopher Lowe
All I remember clearly is Super Mario Brothers. Looking back now, I can’t recall who from our family came into town aside from my cousins, Toot and Tonner, who helped us set up the brand new Nintendo. I remember sitting on the hardwood floor – slid as far back from the TV as possible to save our eyes – while relatives and neighbors and friends of the family weaved through the controller cords, talking about my father in hushed. »