on idyllic Bali in 21stcentury with Frank who keeps talking about Charlie, as we relax in sun-glasses and tee-shirts during our drive across the island, our road traversing numerous picturesque terraced rice paddies, with Frank who periodically rolls down a window of the mini-van to shout “bring ‘em home!” at the oblivious farmers peacefully tending their crops, many of whom are indeed wearing woven grass sun-hats for the heat
Cralan Kelder is the author of Give Some Word
MARVIN GARBEH DAVIS SR.
A sudden hum, a soft pulse through the walls, and the bulbs bloom again: white, merciful, blinding, as if mercy itself has switched on the lights. You can hear the city rejoice. Someone shouts, “Current don come!” Radios click on. Pots clatter. Even the roosters seem to crow out of turn. The sound of the generator fades, its duties relieved.
JOHN T. HOWARD
Another morning in New Harbor arrives, this time with sun in place of cloud and fog. The waves, still audible, seem almost louder than yesterday. The dunting off in the near distance swallowed up by the constancy of ocean sounds. Tumult, clamor, crash.
ERICA EHRENBERG
Nearby, / women came out of the rubble / still pregnant years after / the children were conceived. / I kept you in, the women said, / because you were the pin / holding down the world
Don’t miss an issue! Subscribe to The Common.