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Robert Hiles

Winter 1986

Blessed Are the Geeks

By Robert Hiles

Leaves, clumped like brown parrots, hang frozen from elms arched over Ohio 53. The arch leads to New Bethlehem, a town of worn brick and twelve hundred people under a […]

Summer 1988

Howard an Monroe

By Robert Hiles

What someun wan wif a poor ol nigga’s skull?” “Who know? Cud be A-rabs. Com’nists. Debil worsh’bers. Plum crazy folk.” “What dey do wif some ol nigga’s skull?” “Who know? […]