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 Marilyn Ringer It is the season of races where only one can rise and claim the gold while a world of others must accept no less than heartbreak. Who will remember the woman, pulled up lame, her years of preparation spent on one false step, the look on her…
