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My friend, Fernando

“Why is my wine always at the end?” said my friend, Fernando. “Because you drink too much,” I said. “I don’t drink too much at one...

Every damn one of them

Today the sun shines on Larch Wood Road. I walk down it. God, some days even the trees look sexual. But there are limits. I'm not...

The Trump Poems: An Interview with Tom Riordan

Late in December 2016, struggling to make peace with Donald Trump’s ascension to the Presidency of the United States, Tom Riordan wrote his first...

Home of the Brave

It is 1955. My mother, 25 years-old with long, swept back chestnut curls, deep dimples and pearly teeth, is wearing an apron over her...

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