Like riding a rusty whetstone: you pedal fast, the round stone chirring in frayed summer heat. Then, when you slide your thumb along the
Like riding a rusty whetstone: you pedal fast, the round stone chirring in frayed summer heat. Then, when you slide your thumb along the
It isn’t so much the Proclamation as the whiff of hope, night worrying bare branches and rooftops, nibbling the contours of a tired city.
Cider Press Review's April 2013 web issue, Volume 15, Issue 2, is now online.
