“James Dickey Died Owing Me a Bar Tab” by David Branden Hopes
James Dickey died owing me a seventy dollar bar tab
I picked up for his vivid drunken self
and hammered protégés somewhere in
I forget where goddamn South Carolina.
James Dickey died owing me a seventy dollar bar tab
I picked up for his vivid drunken self
and hammered protégés somewhere in
I forget where goddamn South Carolina.
Gretchen Hodgin TO BITTERNESS They are eating each other. They are overfed. —Anne Sexton The doctor coolly asked me why
Chera Hammons TORNADO ALLEY It’s a house-shaker, cellar-thumper, the sort that we are warned about, but not all of us
John Gosslee HER SPORTS GAME You make a girl want you, she said and pummeled my stomach like a boxer
[audioplayer file=”https://admin.rattle.com/audio/EvansMother.mp3″] R.G. Evans THE THINGS THAT MOTHER SAID If venetian blinds hung crooked, or dishes lay piled in the
David Bottoms CUBS ON ALLATOONA We unrolled our bags around the gasping fire. My first camping trip, and the woods