Death to my hometown
Now, no shells ripped the evening sky No cities burning down No army stormed the shores for which we’d die No dictators were crowned…
Read MoreNow, no shells ripped the evening sky No cities burning down No army stormed the shores for which we’d die No dictators were crowned…
Read MoreI have birthed four children. Any mother will tell you that birth is a labor of love and insist that the memory of the…
Read MoreNow Main Street’s whitewashed windows and vacant stores Seems like there ain’t nobody wants to come down here no more They’re closing down the…
Read MoreFifteen and one serious corner-tucker, frame-duster, every-inch-of-the-toilet scrubber, I rose at 6:00 a.m. and hitched a ride with my older neighbor, just sixteen and…
Read MoreA hurricane blows, brings a hard rain When the blue sky breaks, feels like the world’s gonna change We’ll start caring for each other…
Read MoreI grew up knowing only one of my grandfathers. My father’s father worked in the laundry business—hot work with vapors rising even on a…
Read MoreEarly in the morning factory whistle blows, Man rises from bed and puts on his clothes, Man takes his lunch, walks out in the…
Read MoreFraser River, British Columbia, Canada (June 2016) I was out today with the camera down along one of the winding arms in the delta…
Read MoreYou work that you may keep pace with the earth and the soul of the earth. For to be idle is to become a…
Read MoreEditor’s note: Each Thursday, we feature a throwback piece from Topology’s predecessor, catapult magazine. In this essay from 2004, Amy Carpenter-Leugs shares how working…
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