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Peter Wild



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 [...]


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 [...]