CONVERSATIONAL
by Floyce Alexander I could say little happens here. Snow melts, ice forms. Tornados seldom follow Though cold descends, heat rises Whirring
FROM TERWILLIGER HOT SPRINGS
by Joseph BruChac Those four stones I plucked from the deep bottom of the hottest pool of its healing waters disintegrated in my pocket soon
Pacific Theatre
by Rebecca Newth On the worst day we received a letter for me after the immediate death on Okinawa and the letter said Hi Becky you must be a big
The Forbearance of Dogs
by Rebecca Newth He puts up with so much, and here I am not being facetious, the dirt on his coarse spine my attempts to
A Requiem for Cooking
by Rebecca Newth For behold you look for the dill sauce but it is deep in the cupboard and lo, there is no one to help. Had you
Rod
by Gerard Malanga The sunset coalescing. The twilight waiting waiting patiently. Those commingling voices snagged in some forlorn vista. So many