He could hear cars
on the Barstow-
Bakersfield Highway.
He could see his socks
in the kitchen window;
and the Sierras
over the garage.
A fly swam to his chin.
He waved it off.
The extension cord
snapped taut. And now
two grey-soled socks
cramp like bodies faced
with intractable distances.
-
Issue 53
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Editor's Note
-
Poetry
-
Fiction
-
Book Review
- David Rigsbee reviews Midnight Lantern: New And Selected Poems
by Tess Gallagher
- David Rigsbee reviews Midnight Lantern: New And Selected Poems