Let us praise, brothers, freedom’s twilight,
The great diminishing year!
A heavy forest of nets is lowered
Into the turbulent waters of night.
You are ascending in desolate years,
Oh sun, judge, people.
Let us prai...
Okay, you’re right. I am sitting by a pool in the sub-tropical Florida sun, not too far from West Palm Beach, and it is the middle of August, so hot that just lifting a drink makes you sweat. But this is, I assure you, a s...
It’s a cold morning, two weeks before Christmas, and I’m walking across 57th street on my way to work when I noticed him up ahead, shuffling along the curb -- silver hair, blue jacket and white sneakers – not dressed f...
These three poems will appear in George Wallace's latest book, "Shadow of the Slow Decline" (Blue Light Press, SF Ca), scheduled for release in the spring of 2017.
SHE LIVES IN A LITTLE PLACE OF BOATS
Clarissa felt as if she had gone from starving on a diet of bread and water to gorging on a bountiful smorgasbord. In Oblong, where she grew up, any glimmerings of culture were hard to discern. Her one friend in school, a f...
Killing the Dogs of Kathmandu, by Jason DeBoer
An excerpt from Annihilation Songs: Three Shakespeare Reintegrations, available now from Stalking Horse Press
Editor's Note: This is one of the more interesting pieces that...
New York, July 1 2016. We’d arranged to meet in the lobby of her hotel, a newfangled glass & steel construction with river views and sports facilities. Seated with chin propped on fist, almost in a Rodin Le Penseur pose, w...
As I contemplate my treatment by the psychiatrist J. B. M.D. over a span of twenty years, I recall some of the things the good doctor said and did.
Dr. B. of Connecticut, of the upper classes.
Who carried bedpans as an...
The Family Tree
To all the sons and all the daughters of all the mothers and all the fathers who blessed their children with the demons that drove them to greatness:
Happy Mother’s Day Mother, this two-dollar gift ca...
New York City—8/8/84—Day to Night
Mark wanted to see how fast he could burn through the 10,000 dollar inheritance from Grandpa Dave, who sold schmatta to Hendrix on St Marks, and who despite his gnomic wisd...