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Carolyn Beard Whitlow

Winter 1996

Local Call

By Carolyn Beard Whitlow

You handle me like I'm a local call. I'm expensive. Long distance—although having never been loved I don't know how   to tell you so. So I answer the phone, […]

Summer 1995

Verily, Vérité

By Carolyn Beard Whitlow

  Classical minus Jazz?—the Blues—     I    On Screen “. . . you don’t b’lieve I’m leavin’     try to catch the train I’m on . . .” Blueblack hair slicked back hot […]

Summer 1994

The Hour of Blue

By Carolyn Beard Whitlow

               nickles of daylight spent,                night an empty pocket. . . . . .caught between thought and sleep, coffee pumping blood, veins, arteries needled by handsewn sentences, mind   stained paper, alphabet […]