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Peter Wild



I have spent my life    in a foolish, evil, and crazy manner of false alarms, chasing the remuda  off the runway with a spade, lying about my feelings and finally in the bunker of the double-log root cellar moving the cartons of Coke to get at th [...]


My mother tells the story of the morning in Louisiana during the war when she walked her brother's old albino dog to one of the deserted airfields. He followed a scent down the runway to the water, where the fringe of marsh sargasso had collapsed, t [...]


The police are driving around stern after their disorganized childhoods arresting people for bad posture; with their passkeys they slip into homes as they're moved, having heard some snatch    of Gounod, an idea by Kirwan on the radio to stand inc [...]