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 Patricia L. Meek There are men in the woods I cannot see, reenactment soldiers dressed in blue wool uniforms; some are in gray. The uniforms are nineteenth century and absolutely authentic. Believe me, there is no silk lining, no thin cotton padding to keep He-man skin from chafing and…