Paul Christensen: Ghosts and Memories
It’s the place where the dead are sleeping, barely breathing in the moist black earth along the creek. They will rise when the time comes, and ask the living for a candle, perhaps a dish with a cookie on it.
October 13, 2019 · 1 Comment
Deborah Bogen: October
A train pulls into the station. Passengers break like billiard balls, glide to cars and uses. Ezekiel the pushcart vendor hawks his hot potatoes. This is the month of the … Continue reading
October 3, 2018 · Leave a comment
Molly Fisk: The October Garden
If you were zinnia, still bright in the October garden, and I the last orange cosmos. If you were catmint blue draping yourself over the cinder block wall and I … Continue reading
October 7, 2017 · Leave a comment
