new take on an old song— jazz singer K. J. Denhert taking “Help” four notches down from the manic chase scene to a slow tempo plea drummer Ray Brown’s combo sapping jaunt from FDR’s campaign song “Happy Days Are Here Again” “The...
Read MoreWho can blame the bull? He’s used to open range. When he stamps his hoof, the weak scatter. His bellow splits mountains. He cannot help swinging his head to glare at this cage. He cannot help the sweep of his lethal horns. Why...
Read MoreFirst, a definition of terms—a million New Yorkers concrete enough, though how this number was arrived at perhaps questionable, based on a survey, how many boxes checked “no religion”—15% nationwide, extrapolating to the city’s...
Read MoreDifficult to know whether Jennifer was ever my mother’s friend, but my mother couldn’t bring herself to say she wasn’t. Strands of mousey brown hair in a perfect pixie cut resting on a starling’s frame; she still sends me...
Read MoreHere in the foothills rise of wild blackberry from shale creek beds roadsides ruffled in tiger lilies cast beer bottles and arrow heads corn a knit of pearl rows feathered leaves reflect shards of sun lush and cool as clover...
Read MoreI was in the wrong road-there ahead was the Wayan Bough Methodist Church. Distracted, I made a wrong turn somewhere. Or, maybe it was all the wine I drank last night that still haunted my head and body. And, of course, last...
Read MoreWhatever it was I used to think or obsess about—each morning, each evening among the scattered stars—my speculation on the wonder of the world as I faced the IBM typer or my first small box Apple computer, has flown out the...
Read MoreThough I’d heard of them I swear I’d never once even seen them But the first time I stumbled across them Recognized them for exactly what they were Their little faces sweet and red With embarrassment, shame and pride And when I...
Read MoreWere we eight or ten the year the Young Boys Moved in down the street Fencing stolen stuff in the dark The catalpas Bulging out over the sidewalks Like bouncers at an all-night club Seed pods littering the lawn Like gang...
Read More“Shhh!” Cassy glowered with narrowed eyes. “…stick the needle,” Dwayne continued unabated. “Dwayne,” Cassy demanded with a low growl. “…in the doll and,” “DWAYNE,” Cassy repeated, pressing her hand against Dwayne’s shoulder;...
Read MoreSeven in the evening the announcement blew up the city’s telephone lines My sedan was jogging down the lane along with news as contagious as diseases. I looked outside the window sensing a feeling of tension traveled up my...
Read MoreGIRL IN THE DAPPLED SHADE BY PAMELA VAP If Shirley Temple were a bird, she would look like the girl who is perched on the limb, ringlet curls, eyebrows arched like a wing, round cheeks, and missing her front baby teeth. Below...
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