|Fiction||Essays||Poetry||The Ten||On Baseball||Chapbooks||In Memory|
by William Dean
Kesey's kicked it at last / He's shuffled off the scuffed Levi's / and dowager boots / and joined the coots / up there where the past / is all coffee houses, divas, and lies
George Was My Beatle
by Samantha Capps Emerson
I am eleven years old and I can sign George Harrison's autograph so well it looks almost like the real thing.
by Jeff Beresford-Howe
Here's what I remember. I remember being a twenty-year-old kid from a fucked-up suburban family and deciding to go check out the Grateful Dead one day.
|Home||Contributors||Past Issues||Search||Links||Guidelines||About Us|