Annunciation
Issue #40
Fall 1986
Scarecrow, they called me, in my old gingham, poked up on a pole to tilt and waltz with whatever fickle wind happened by. My blood, bone and heart: old stable straw ticking with crickets, locusts, every harvest-hungry insect. For years...
Purchase an archive subscription to see the rest of this article.
Purchase an archive subscription to see the rest of this article.