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An ex-spiritual-pest-control adherent; Portland, Oregon residents during the Chernobyl disaster; an expletive spewing six-year-old
April 1987Wandering the fields, rendezvousing in a cowshed, getting out the paper dolls
March 1987Playing board games, returning a rented cap and gown, counting the days
January 1987I’m sitting at my desk watching the moon rise over the Berkshires; I’m in an apartment; I’m not in California
December 1986The library is a trap; it is the subversion of secrecy; it is the first and best sanctuary of the life of the mind
October 1986Two World Wars and the Great Depression, the old Firesign Theater “Everything You Know Is Wrong,” a wet comb
August 1986Inner voice as intuitive guide, the undeniable presence of a voice, the voice of silence
July 1986Has something we published moved you? Fired you up? Did we miss the mark? We’d love to hear about it.
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