IN Fall 1984
IN Summer 1984
Enters in the heroic mode, feathered And helmeted, muscle-bound For glory, smelling of scorch. Raise That sword a little higher If you can lift it and buckle your straps Tight. Insert fanfare. Nobody still Gets to ride the train all afternoon Dozing. Scotch that clickety-clack, the sudden Dark plunge. In the […]
Read MoreIN Fall 2015