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PRISMATIST
TRAVELING THROUGH GEORGIA – by Nicole d’Entremont
Long tunnels of night
Through the sweet, sulfur air
The road always narrower
“Are we there?”
NOVA SCOTIA BURNING - By Peter D'Entremont
Nova Scotia is very forested.
IF YOU LIKE STORIES, HEAD TO TEXAS - By Judy Dean
I was driving through Texas Hill Country with my mom last month ...
PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE, AMENDED – By Peter d’Entremont
U.S. Supreme Court Amended Version
UNDER ASHES - By Tim Wintermute
You can’t be surprised unless you have expectations.
JOURNEY TO ICELAND - Photography by Tom Egel
Photographic tour of Iceland
CORNER OF CALIFORNIA AND FILLMORE - By Judy Dean
I woke up to the sound of foghorns: long, deep, incessant foghorns.
DAD'S LIFE ON WHEELS - By Jim Kent
As all the world knows, J. Donald Kent, voluntarily stopped driving three weeks before his 98th birthday
RISEN – by Judy Dean
Every year I look forward to the precious few weeks when plants break the surface of the earth.
BUILDING HEARTWOOD - By Judy Dean
Sometime after midnight on July 6, 1982, my brothers and I climbed the old cherry-picker ladder
EVOLVING AND DISSOLVING: COMMUNITY - By Sue Smaltz Burrus
What is necessary for “community”? A dictionary definition says it is members of a social group who have something in common - a...
ANIMAL RAP - By The Space Lady - Susan Dietrich Schneider
I channeled this song from the Animal Kingdom…so please don’t shoot the messenger!
HONOLULU - By Judy Dean
When I stepped off the plane in Honolulu in the winter of 1978 I was a dazed, pasty-skinned 23-year-old with no return ticket.
“WILL WE BE SLAVES AGAIN?” - By Mary Kent
As some of you may know, I am a substitute teacher in Arlington schools.
DANCING WITH DARKDOUGH: A NOIR NEW YEAR'S MYSTERY - By Tim Wintermute
I hadn’t planned on ringing in the New Year three thousand miles from Times Square.
AN APOLOGY TO MY DAD FOR FATHERS DAY - By Steve Wintermute
My Dad is a minister.. many ministers have other interests they pursue with “religious” fervor
THE SANTA WHO SAVED CHRISTMAS CREEK - By Tim Wintermute
It was early in the morning the day before Christmas and Ezra, as usual, was sitting at his desk
FRANKLY MY DEAR ... By Jim Kent
It’s not that I don’t give a damn, or that I’m giving up, exactly. I’m just tired of it.
GUN SLINGING JUSTICE - By Jim Kent
Like everyone else who claims to be a fundamentalist (or for this purpose an originalist) in their chosen pursuit,
NOT A SILENT NIGHT - By Susan Dietrich
In the spring of 1980, I began playing music in the Boston subways
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