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James Richardson

Winter 1980

Patchwork

By James Richardson

When you unfurled that quilt, tremendous as weather over your minuscule living room, I traced the arabesques and stars, the braille of the meticulous stitch my fingers were too blind […]

Winter 1980

An Afterthought

By James Richardson

By August, the clay was harder than the roads. When you drove off, I’d crouch in the strange noon exhalations of tomatoes and marigolds, chiseling at weeds. Nothing, it seems […]