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In twelve months I hadn’t set foot in a supermarket, hadn’t compared the prices of two brands of bread, hadn’t stood in a checkout line to buy anything, not even a pack of Tic Tacs. Everything I ate had been thrown away. Everything I ate, I’d found first.
November 2023Lonely nights I walk to the old / elevator that used to hold Montana / grain: beams rusted, train tracks / ripped out, a patchwork of missing / roof panels framing perfect squares / of starlight
January 2023I walk past the Kwik Trip where you found me / in the dumpster, tunneling for canned food. / Past the VFW where you bought us burgers, / newspaper now taped over the windows.
June 2017Has something we published moved you? Fired you up? Did we miss the mark? We’d love to hear about it.
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