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Memories of a Joplin Bum, by Helen Losse
I’m really a person who keeps pretty much to myself, but you’d probably know me as the guy you see all over town pushin’ the old wooden cart. You’d call me a bum, but I’ll get to that later. I … Continue reading
A Milk Jug Birdhouse, poem by Helen Losse
A Milk Jug Birdhouse My mind rejects what my eyes can see. A girl— using a phone book for a booster seat— sits at a table in the yard, beside an abandoned clothes dryer. She’s carving a birdhouse from an empty milk carton. … Continue reading