Road Sounds

The dream of small towns being miles off, cities being hundreds of miles off, hearing none of their road sounds or the blustering voices of their inhabitants, that dream belonged to my grandfather. He wanted to walk out onto his porch in early light, sipping coffee, and hear nothing but the occasional noise chickens make […]

Read More…

APAD: Courbet, by Debra Allbery

Saturday afternoon in the two-hearted woods. Clouded brow of the upper midwest, sepia season stalled again at February. Out my window, scrim of hardwoods, a dark choke of pine. I’m in a lamplit corner, reading a book on Courbet. Then a memory like opening to a random page—a café back east, early, a window table. […]

Read More…

APAD: Imaginary August, by C.D. Wright

If one stood perfectly still. Even in the withering hours of then. Hair down to here. Being alive and quiet. One could forget oneself. Forget what one didn’t even recognize. How mad it felt. Subliminally. One could pick out goldfinches and mourning cloaks among the dying stalks of cosmos, and across the ditch of gray […]

Read More…