(In 1982, in Willimantic, CT, the thread mill closed throwing thousands out of work.) Late August and through the open windows, warm Spanish syllables round and sweet as … Continue reading →
If I could be half-blind with reverie, or bathed breast-deep in seas of times gone by, perhaps I could express all that you gave to me, or whisper worlds into … Continue reading →
You be the man. I’ll be the woman. You be black. I’ll be white. You be paranoid. I’ll be ignorant. Ready? Now we’ll fall in love. I’ll take it … Continue reading →