I was a kid when we hit Mile-High suburbs, carcasses of Winnebagos strung out behind us on the plains, the mile-long gas lines coming in view. Doubt ate me like flowers. I’d seen the scalded girl, the jungle on fire. I asked, what is there to fight for? What explains this warfare? Shush, said Aunt … Continue reading Denver
by Wendy Taylor Carlisle
from Steve Dunn, Riffs and Reciprocities Religion is proof a good story’s a powerful thing. What we say about our past becomes our past. Blessed are the generous who keep enough for themselves… The punishment for being good is a life of goodness. What we say about our past becomes our past. I am the … Continue reading Cento Pantoum
by Wendy Taylor Carlisle
Grownups warned us about the treachery of horses, their devious tempers, their suspicion, dark as a hay barn, that could sink them to their knees, roll them over on you in a split second. Every pliant muzzle hid grinding teeth. White-showing eyes, fickle hindquarters were adages against the certain pleasures I knew: a wing of … Continue reading Swimming,
by Wendy Taylor Carlisle
