NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 2013: POETRY by Julia Spicher Kasdorf That town along the tracks where trains no longer stopped had more bars than churches, but everyone kept Christmas so on January 6th, a day most of us could not name, volunteer firemen gathered at the playground to burn trees, our own and those we begged from old neighbors. A branch in each mittened hand, we'd drag them through the streets to the place where men in helmets and thick, complicated coats bent…
Julia Spicher KasdorfNovember 1, 2013
AUGUST/SEPTEMBER 2012: POETRY by Julia Spicher Kasdorf after Rilke Little one, let the monarchs flex and rest on the sand before their long migrations. Ease your head onto the float as the sun sinks red on the ridge, summer done, no one else at the lake but a Russian who strokes and strokes on the far side of the rope. Soon enough we’ll dress and hurry home in sudden darkness. If you remember anything from this time, let it be…
Julia Spicher KasdorfAugust 1, 2012