Sunday, November 4, 2018

BACK TO BELLAIR, PROSE NO PHOTOS











I eventually went on to write 75 Terra Strains mini-poems, none kept, many in forgotten small press magazines. I could probably find 10-15 of them. My time spent in Bellair was not that good, but I did make friends my own age, and some much older whom I knew I would never meet again. One piece dates this entire thing. Bus was a fellow who a bunch of us helped dig a ditch, and he spoke matter-of-factly about our ages. This was still the Cold War, and he fully expected there to be nuclear missiles in the air in our lifetimes. Not his. Ours.

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