Page 153 from Issue 46 of Bucksport owed their fortune to the export of ice to India. My German ... ancestors stepped into history in the aftermath of the Mongol invasions. My father was a disciple of Madison ... went back to Germany in 1919. While excavating the tumulus on the Von Trotschke estate he met my mother ...

here with Father." He moved the stick lightly into the hollow between my larynx and chin. ... to go so far; I hadn't expected him to thrust his strength into the stick. My muscles ... constricted like stones in my chest; air clogged. My nails gouged through his shirt. This is the way it is, ...

Page 171 from Issue 53 with the object created. My body turns ugly, mortified by bringing forth an ... In getting rid of it, it becomes ugly from the effort. My womb has never produced the germ of another ... life. My hands are shaping forms in quantity and seek affirmation in each exemplar. As if it were a herd ...

into its orbit. See, there, iridium, it says, and swivels my cameras everywhere around me. Feel, there, ... Somehow, although weight grows everywhere in me, and my cameras swivel helplessly down into falling, ... I feel a motion in one of my limbs: it reaches out after ice, not to break, not to gather: I reach out ...

Page 30 from Issue 84 benightedness in my small world. And most important of all, my par­ ents ... behavior, and themselves live by another. I entered my midteens and the world of literature while still ... appreciat­ ing my small world. Despite the parochialism around me, that apprecia­ tion grew over the years ...