My mother hanging sheets on a line in ’47. The wind believes it won the war, just like the rest of America, and swirls her black hair in a manner […]
Read Morefor & from James Galvin People were nice. I asked the priest to wear my mother’s wedding dress during the sermon about the difference between turning the other cheek […]
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[Untitled]; Every machine has its parts; A hermit’s poem; & Small measures, big shadows
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