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Poem: Lamentations Road

Poem: Lamentations Road

Lamentations Road By Patrick T. Reardon Lamentations Road runs past Judge Westcott’s mansion, out to Weed Hollow where a dead mule rots, a pestilence of flies, while I rock in the sun, another broken part of the machine. The Adolphus Smythe...

Poem: “Make”

Poem: “Make”

Make By Patrick T. Reardon In summer, the father grilled hot dogs with his white t-shirt off, skin burning. In fall, he tolled novenas. After snow melt, the whitened bones of a gnawed bird, chaos of feathers. Can you taste the beckoning? In...