In this issue of Cider Press Review, we perseverate on generational conversations—floating between what is past, what is present, and into the liminality of
In this issue of Cider Press Review, we perseverate on generational conversations—floating between what is past, what is present, and into the liminality of
December, wide with winter, remembers the world. And the stamped earth, trees locked in light. You play computer chess; house dust shimmers in its
My father must have loved the early morning; perhaps he loved the way the light folded across the table like fresh linen in the