When I was a Boy

… we’d go tramping off the back road through salal and ferns and huckleberries and hike the dry logged-off ridges crisscrossed with wild strawberries tiny and tasty and gritty with sand We’d stomp down tough blackberry vines raveling over the slash of old bones piles of branches the loggers left We’d reach past bramble thorns…

Goat Boy

by Eugene Marckx They tell of a crossroads called Damned-if-you-Do & Damned-if-you-Don’t. But they don’t tell about a boy born there. He was raised by an old man, since the woman who bore the son couldn’t stand it with the man there in Damned-if-you-Do & Damned-if-you-Don’t. She left them both in the dust. The old…

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