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April 1990The sun and the moon and the stars would have disappeared long ago . . . had they happened to be within the reach of predatory human hands.
Havelock Ellis
Harper lost the Wheeler account. He felt it slip through his fingers like something warm and sticky, making a mess of everything. He spent the rest of the morning in Johnstone’s office, staring at the burgundy carpet as his boss leaned a finger into Harper’s face and raged.
By Terry L. TomaDecember 1989That damned wind! It did whatever it liked. It caressed your hair, your legs, your shoulders, your breasts. I hated it, Kristin! I wanted to kill it.
By V. MyagkovAugust 1989Mary waits at the foot of the stairs. She means to go up the stairs and back to bed but feels too exhausted to make the climb.
By Scott HewittMay 1989I started smoking cigarettes four months ago, out of the blue. I didn’t question myself about it, just figured that a nasty habit had swooped out of the sky and carried me off in its talons.
By Jack UnderhillOctober 1988A left-hand turn; a dew-laced web; a piece of blue paper, folded once
By Our ReadersSeptember 1988You are an essence / in a world of essences.
You burn, / like those around you burn, / with an energy called life.
Life reaches out to life. / Essences sing to each other.
June 1988“Why,” a seventy-six-year-old woman was asked, “are you seeking therapy at your age?” Reflecting both her losses and her hopes, she answered, “Doctor, all I’ve got left is my future.”
Judith Viorst
Necessary Losses
Leaving the chiropractor’s office / driving through the woods along the Cold River / I wanted to write a poem
By Stephen T. ButterfieldJune 1988I didn’t understand what he meant when I first heard John Lennon sing, “No one can harm you. Feel your own pain.” But I knew his words were true, just as a sudden change in the weather is true, just as the alarm clock with its shrill ring is true.
By Sy SafranskyJune 1988Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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