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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 8, Number 1, March 2014


Lance Rivers
Salem, Ohio, USA

The Way

I walk to school through a grey mist, then cross Sheridan Road to the Mitchell place, which always had a marmalade light swelling from the kitchen window. Past the barn with driftwood boards—ragged and brown along the ground—then the empty lot where merinos poke their heads between barbed wires to nip at dead grass and leave tufted crescents of creamy wool tangled on metal thorns that Old Man Mitchell collects on sunny afternoons when he waves at me as I walk home.

paper leaf burst
of orange and olive
school windows



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