By Keith Burton i was stretching my legs on the littoralgiving names to the shapes of the cloudsthat swam across the lake’s reflectionwhen trouble came crawling on eight legs. help me across he asked with a period. i knew better; i had an owl’s acuity.no can do, i know you…
by Marcelle Thiébaux There was a wrecking site on the corner where the old Associated Supermarket had been. I used to pass it, always the same gaping cellar-hole with dirty planks slapped over rubble. Only yesterday I’d seen the crew blasting with jackhammers, breaking mortar into slag. They wore hard…