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C O N T E N T S
Breathing Like
HOUDINI
A M E M O I R
Sinking with a metallic rattling scrape into one of the folding chairs around the seance
table, I realize I’m breathing like
Houdini. Which is
to say not
breathing
at all.
“Let’s bring him
back today,”
someone
says.
“Yes,”
I say.
“Let’s."
Gone But Not Forgotten
Haunted by
Neither Rain
Nor sleet, but...
ANTHRAX?
night comes to
The Old Motel
The curious
Sadness of Overtime
This Soft
black Earth
His Blood
Runs Coal
Losing
Estelle
The Last Ride of
Sgt. McDonald
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